"What on earth are you doing here?" Outcast asked, looking between Jeanne and Talulah in sheer disbelief. "Shouldn't you be in Laterano attending the Grand Summit? How did the two of you even end up traveling together?"
"The summit wrapped up its primary sessions, so I decided to take a short break," Jeanne replied cheerfully, giving Talulah's shoulder a firm pat. "Then I bumped into this one along the way, so I tagged along to Victoria!"
"Is that so? Well, you're certainly welcome here!" Outcast stepped aside with a warm grin, gesturing for them to enter. "We were actually just talking about you! Everyone will be thrilled to have you join us for afternoon tea."
As Outcast ushered the pair inside, the rest of the operators turned toward the entrance. They had overheard Outcast's words outside, and sheer curiosity was written across every face in the room. The girl who looked remarkably like Janie was standing right before them.
Before them stood a golden-haired girl with a heavy arming sword strapped to her waist. Though she wasn't currently holding a banner, it took very little imagination to picture her standing resolute on a battlefield, banner in one hand and blade in the other.
"The resemblance really is striking!" someone marveled. Face to face, the resemblance in both facial features and overall aura was undeniable.
"And who is..." Talulah murmured, glancing at Janie. The young Vouivre radiates a gentle, steadfast energy that felt strangely familiar. Turning to Jeanne, Talulah smirked playfully. "Is this one of your devout admirers? A fan, perhaps? One of those ardent worshippers who follow you around?"
Talulah cast a meaningful side-eye at Jeanne. In response, Jeanne rolled her eyes and, completely hidden from the rest of the room, pinched the base of Talulah's dragon tail with a sharp, warning squeeze.
Talulah's frame stiffened instantly. She shot Jeanne a venomous glare that made her intentions crystal clear: Just wait until tonight.
Suppressing her reaction, Talulah turned her gaze back to Janie. In all fairness, the resemblance to Jeanne was quite uncanny.
"Wait... is Jeanne someone famous?" Janie asked, having caught their whispered banter. She racked her brain but couldn't recall hearing of any prominent figure named Jeanne.
"Famous doesn't even begin to cover it! She happens to be the Saintess of Laterano!" Outcast interjected before Jeanne could downplay it, introducing her to the local staff with an affectionate smile.
The room erupted into animated chatter. The local operators gathered around, astonished that the modest traveler standing before them was such an influential figure on the continental stage.
"H-Hello... I'm Janie..." Janie stammered, growing visibly flustered. To a local flag-bearer whose highest interaction was usually with garrison officers, meeting a genuine Saintess was overwhelmingly intimidating.
"Relax, I don't bite!" Jeanne chuckled warmly at the poor Vouivre's panic, offering a soothing smile.
"Now that we have guests, I'll go steep a fresh pot of tea," Outcast announced, turning toward the back kitchen. "Jeanne, come give me a hand!"
"I can handle that—" Janie offered instinctively, eager to make herself useful, but Jeanne gently stopped her.
"Sit tight, I've got it," Jeanne said with a reassuring nod. "Outcast and I are old friends, there's no need for formal hospitality!"
Jeanne followed Outcast into the quiet pantry, where the older silver-haired Sankta was waiting.
"Alright, out with it," Outcast said, her tone suddenly shifting into grim seriousness. "What happened to bring you all the way out to a border district in Victoria?"
She knew instinctively that whatever Jeanne was about to share would not be good news. Stationed deep in Victoria, Outcast had deliberately refrained from prying into the latest news from Laterano or Logos's movements, preferring to keep her focus grounded until her assignment concluded. Her veteran heart didn't need any unexpected shocks.
"It sounds completely unbelievable, but I need you to trust me when I say every word of this is the absolute truth," Jeanne warned softly before leaning in. "I had a vivid vision. A premonition that this entire city, County Hillock, is going to be obliterated by active Originium dirty bombs!"
Outcast froze. The cigarette held between her fingers snapped cleanly in half, dropping unheeded to the tabletop. She stared into Jeanne's steady, unblinking eyes for a long, heavy moment.
"In that vision, I saw the local Rhodes Island office reduced to ash amidst the ruins," Jeanne continued softly. "That is the exact reason I altered my path and rushed straight here."
"A prophetic dream..." Outcast murmured, her voice tight. After a moment of heavy silence, she exhaled sharply. "Coming from anyone else, I would dismiss it instantly. But coming from you... I believe you."
Outcast immediately shifted into tactical focus, analyzing the potential threat piece by piece as Jeanne detailed everything she had witnessed.
"You said the blast pattern covers multiple city blocks... and you mentioned a massive shipment of military-grade Originium products vanishing recently? That is..."
Outcast trailed off, her brow furrowed deep in thought. Even with her extensive knowledge of Victorian territory, connecting these isolated fragments into a coherent picture was no easy task.
When the two emerged back into the main room, their expressions were heavy. Outcast, in particular, was already running through potential suspects capable of executing a strike of that magnitude.
The primary suspect was glaringly obvious: the local garrison force. A saturation strike spanning entire residential districts required heavy, high-yield artillery batteries that only an organized military garrison possessed. No shadow faction could deploy that kind of fire support inside a fortified city unless a heavy landship happened to pass nearby and opened fire with its main weapons array.
Meanwhile, over by the maps, Jeanne had struck up a casual conversation with Janie. "So, you're a soldier serving this city?"
"Ah, yes! Though I'm just a flag-bearer for the ceremonial honor guard," Janie replied quietly, rubbing the back of her neck with a touch of self-deprecation.
"That means you know the layout of County Hillock like the back of your hand, right?" Jeanne asked, stepping toward a large map mounted on the wall. Pointing out the primary blast zone she and Outcast had mapped out, she asked, "Can you tell me who lives in these specific districts?"
Janie leaned closer, examining the highlighted zones. After a moment's reflection, she answered clearly, "This section... covers almost the entirety of the Taran residential district. It also touches a few noble estates, but otherwise, it's predominantly Taran neighborhoods."
The three listening exchanged sharp, telling glances. A major piece of the puzzle had just fallen into place!
The Tarans.
Among all the political factions quietly simmering beneath the surface, the Taran population was the common thread!
"What can you tell us about recent developments here?" Outcast interjected smoothly before Jeanne could ask. "How have the Tarans been treated over the past few years?"
Janie recognized the gravity of the question from their serious expressions and straightened up, organizing her thoughts.
"The Tarans have always struggled here," Janie explained faithfully. "As you know, the Taran people were absorbed into Victoria centuries ago. But recently—a few years back, I can't pinpoint the exact year—a sudden wave of Taran national revival began sweeping through the lower districts. Many Tarans started exclusively speaking the Taran dialect again, publicly declaring that their loyalty belongs to Taran heritage rather than the Victorian crown..."
Sitting nearby, Talulah's eyes narrowed. She knew the complex history of the Taran people well—a ethnic group whose presence in these lands predated even the Aslan lineage's arrival in Victoria. Why would an ancient, integrated population suddenly push for radical separation now?
There is an unseen hand pulling the strings behind all of this.
The thought crossed the minds of everyone in the room simultaneously. They exchanged subtle, knowing nods in absolute silence.
Observing their grave expressions, Janie swallowed nervously and asked softly, "Um... did you hear something? Is something terrible going to happen to the Taran quarters?"