"Wow, it appears your raw elemental power has advanced significantly!" Jeanne remarked, her eyes widening as she watched the pillar of fire dance across Talulah's hand. She hadn't anticipated that a brief period of unconsciousness would yield such a dramatic leap in capability.
"I didn't expect it either," Talulah murmured, staring at her palm in wonder. "I didn't even apply a heavy focus, yet the intensity reached this level. In the past, achieving an output like this would have required immense concentration."
Intrigued by the sudden evolution taking root within her body, the Draco leader began testing a few of her familiar arts, monitoring how her techniques responded to her newly awakened heritage.
The results were remarkable: the sheer volume of her flames had been heavily magnified, and her physical endurance felt significantly sharper. However, exploring the full extent of these gifts would require time and patience.
The only drawback was that because the raw energy behind her arts had expanded so rapidly, her fine control over the shape of her flames had suffered a minor decline.
Then again, given her heritage, a slight loss of precision wasn't necessarily a bad thing.
"It makes perfect sense," Jeanne noted. "Fafnir doesn't spend her time worrying about micro-managing the shape of her inferno either. For a Draco, wasting effort on delicate, intricate patterns instead of relying on pure, overwhelming force seems like a misunderstanding of your natural strengths."
"Your perspective carries a great deal of sense," Talulah admitted, pondering her friend's words. "I shall have to reconsider my approach to training once we return."
"Talulah, Jeanne! Our scouts have uncovered something unusual over here!"
Before they could delve any deeper into the future of Draco elements, an Ursus warrior ran up to their position, his expression bright with curiosity as if he had stumbled upon a fascinating prize among the wreckage.
The two friends exchanged a quick glance before following the warrior toward the center of the ruined battery position.
Resting in the snow was a heavy, blackened object. Jeanne observed the metallic container, noting that its composition must have been exceptionally valuable to survive Fafnir's breath without dissolving into a pool of liquid ore.
"When our squad discovered it, a few charred remains were still clutching it tightly," the soldier explained, circling the object. "Given the location and the desperation of those defenders, we assumed this container held something significant, so we brought it directly to you."
The surrounding scouts watched with keen interest, eager to learn what the imperial officers had been trying so hard to protect.
Clang, clang, clang.
Jeanne rapped her knuckles against the reinforced casing. Since the heat had blackened the entire exterior, obscuring any labels or identification marks, she couldn't make heads or tails of its purpose.
"Are you being intentionally dense? It's a field safe! What is the point of knocking on it like a door?" Talulah remarked, offering her friend a look of pure exasperation.
"I was merely examining the quality of the metal," Jeanne countered quickly, refusing to admit that she hadn't recognized it as a secure lockbox at first glance.
Besides, how had the Draco leader identified it so swiftly? The blackened block looked absolutely nothing like a conventional security chest.
Talulah chose not to reveal that she recognized the design simply because Kashchey had kept identical secure chests within his estate; the model was a rare luxury produced almost exclusively for the high aristocracy of Ursus.
"Since your eye is so sharp, why don't you try your hand at opening it?" Jeanne suggested, sliding the heavy box toward her.
Hearing the challenge, a bead of cold sweat formed on Talulah's brow. She possessed zero knowledge regarding locksmithing or security dials; forcing her to crack a combination was a bit unreasonable.
"If you lack the knack for it, allow me!" Jeanne declared proudly. Reclaiming the container, she ignored the complex locking mechanism entirely and placed her faith in her pure physical intuition.
With a few sharp, powerful movements, she bypassed the internal tumblers through sheer leverage, forcing the reinforced door to pop open with a loud click.
Resting inside the compartment was a compact device—a specialized long-range military communicator meant for corresponding with high-ranking patrons in the capital.
"Return to your posts and continue monitoring the valley," Talulah commanded, her expression sharpening the moment she spotted the device. "We shall examine this item privately."
Sensing the sudden shift in their leader's mood, the surrounding scouts tactfully saluted and dispersed to tend to the remaining wreckage.
Talulah understood precisely who would be waiting on the other end of that frequency, but she hesitated, wondering if initiating a dialogue at this specific juncture was a wise course of action. After drawing a few deep breaths, she looked over at Jeanne, who was currently peering back into the open safe.
"What else are you searching for in there?" Talulah asked, a faint smile breaking through her serious demeanor as she watched her friend practically stick her entire head into the metal box.
"I simply refuse to believe a secure container of this caliber was manufactured just to hold a single communicator," Jeanne grumbled, her voice muffled by the safe. "The weight distribution feels completely off. Go ahead and activate the device; I shall simply listen from over here."
Nodding, Talulah switched on the receiver and maintained a disciplined silence.
The speaker on the opposing side remained equally quiet, initiating a tense game of patience as both parties waited for the other to break the stalemate. The air around the command tent grew remarkably still, punctuated only by the occasional metallic scrape of Jeanne continuing her investigation of the lockbox.
"To the chosen heir of Duke Kashchey... I did not anticipate our initial introduction would unfold under such catastrophic circumstances," a voice finally emerged from the speaker, thick with poorly concealed fury.
The greeting caused Talulah's gaze to turn incredibly cold. She stared at the small communicator as if she could see the arrogant face of the noble aristocrat hidden behind the static.
Even Jeanne paused her dismantling of the safe, surprised by the speaker's boldness. Walking straight into Talulah's worst conversational minefield? How exceptionally brave.
Jeanne knew the high noble couldn't possibly be ignorant of Talulah's profound loathing for the old serpent. How could a woman who had delivered the final strike against Kashchey ever tolerate being addressed by his title?
Even if her relationship with the old snake's lingering spirit had achieved a strange, tense equilibrium within her subconscious, she would never permit an outsider to label her as his continuation.
"If your objective today is simply to provoke my temper, then I believe this discussion has reached its conclusion," Talulah stated coldly. "I have zero intention of altering my course for the sake of a dead man's memory."
She offered Jeanne a brief, meaningful wink, making a gesture as if she were about to sever the transmission entirely.
"Please, contain your fury! I offer my sincere apologies for my careless choice of words," the voice rushed to intervene, the aristocrat's composure fracturing as he realized he was about to lose the connection. "Allow me to address you properly... Miss Talulah, correct?"
At the other end of the line, miles away in a luxurious estate, the high noble sneered at the receiver, viewing her defiance as the behavior of an unrefined child.
In his estimation, the young girl Kashchey had reared remained entirely ignorant of the grand design, moving through the frontier like a blind puppet.
Kashchey truly executed his work masterfully, the noble mused silently. When the proper hour arrives, we shall not only possess a formidable vanguard to serve as a convenient scapegoat for our campaign, but we shall also inherit an extraordinary military asset.
"We formally acknowledge the failure of our border deployment," the speaker continued smoothly, steering the conversation back to terms. "Consequently, our faction is prepared to offer a handsome sum of compensation in exchange for a formal guarantee that your movement will bypass our territorial holdings. Furthermore, under favorable conditions, we may even offer discrete material assistance to your cause. What is your assessment of this proposal?"
The noble's submission was remarkably thorough, driven by the realization that the high nobles had no immediate counter-measure against an organization wielding a living dragon. Though Reunion's regular infantry strength appeared unpolished, their ability to field a primal entity functioned as an unstoppable trump card.
"Is that so?" Talulah murmured, lifting an eyebrow. Instead of delivering an immediate answer, she simply set the communicator down on a nearby stone, allowing the device to ring and vibrate against the rock as the noble frantically tried to re-establish the dialogue.
She knew that the party experiencing the greatest anxiety in this situation was definitely not her. As long as these border lords failed to secure a peace treaty, they would likely endure many sleepless nights, wondering if a swarm of flying monsters might appear above their estates to deliver a sudden bombardment.
Indeed, the noble on the other end was growing increasingly frantic. He genuinely feared that the phantasmal beasts might descend to erase his lineage from the land, especially since traditional fortresses possessed zero operational experience regarding air defense.
Following the urgent instructions of his peers, the aristocrat was determined to stabilize relations with Talulah's vanguard at any cost. Whatever resources they surrendered now would simply be reclaimed with interest once Kashchey initiated the next phase of his grand design.
Meanwhile, Jeanne finally managed to breach the double-layered lining of the field safe through pure, brute strength.
With a loud crunch of tearing metal, a collection of high-value bank drafts and imperial bonds fell onto the snow, followed by a thick leather ledger and a sealed document.
It was an official dispatch, penned by the imperial officers who had commanded the defense line, containing the private directives issued by their aristocratic patrons.