"Um... did something happen to the Taran residential district?" Janie asked nervously. Though she couldn't grasp all the grand high-level political maneuvers, she was smart enough to know that something dangerous was taking root in her town.
While many Victorian troops looked down on the local Tarans, Janie held no resentment toward them. On the contrary, she frequently offered her assistance whenever she could—bringing books to Taran children or handing out extra rations to families in need.
Now, hearing that the district might be facing an impending disaster, her heart hammered against her ribs. She looked at Jeanne and Outcast with pleading eyes, silently hoping they would tell her it was all a misunderstanding, that County Hillock would remain peaceful and quiet.
Jeanne and Outcast exchanged a subtle glance, neither answering immediately. Jeanne was still unfamiliar with the young flag-bearer and worried that a Victorian soldier might accidentally leak their actions to the conspirators, prompting them to strike prematurely.
"She's been spending time around our office for a while now; she's practically half a Rhodes Island operator," one of the local staff whispered to Jeanne and Outcast. "Janie can be trusted. It's safe to tell her."
"It's not that I doubt the girl's character," Outcast sighed, a weary smile touching her aged face as she looked at the young Vouivre. "Janie is a good, noble child. Even if she knows the truth, she wouldn't betray us. But... I worry about what knowing will do to your life, my dear. The shock could shatter your worldview completely, and it will force you to say goodbye to the quiet life you have now."
Outcast spoke with grave sincerity. She knew Janie would stand on the side of justice, but doing so meant turning her back on the very army she served. That single choice would irrevocably alter the path of her life.
"I'm not afraid!" Janie declared, her eyes burning with quiet resolve. "If this is as critical as you say, then you need all the help you can get! I may not have grand combat powers, but I can keep my eyes open within the military garrison and dig for clues!"
She spoke with complete conviction, though a sudden wave of practical anxiety washed over her a moment later. Her tone softened as she rubbed the back of her neck nervously. "Though... if I end up getting discharged from the army for this... it'd be wonderful if you could offer me a job."
While political shadow plots didn't frighten the young flag-bearer, losing her primary source of income certainly did!
"Don't worry," Outcast laughed warmly, patting Janie on the shoulder. "If you lose your post because of this, I'll personally write you a recommendation to work at Rhodes Island!"
With that guarantee, Outcast carefully laid out the situation. Janie listened intently, her eyes widening with disbelief and confusion. How could anyone predict a catastrophic attack based on a simple vision?
Yet, looking at their solemn faces, Janie chose to believe them. As the full weight of the disclosure settled over her, a chill ran down her spine.
How could something so terrifying be brewing right beneath their noses? Even as a simple ceremonial flag-bearer, Janie knew how deep and murky the waters ran within the military command.
"If that's the case... I'll do everything in my power to keep watch over County Hillock!" Janie vowed, clenching her fists tightly.
"Your top priority is to protect yourself," Outcast instructed firmly, resting a hand on the girl's shoulder. "Don't let anyone notice anything unusual in your behavior. Only by staying safe can you truly help us."
Seeing Janie turn to leave, Outcast watched her with lingering concern.
"Do you really believe the local garrison is behind this?" a local Rhodes Island operator asked softly after the door closed.
"I'd love nothing more than to be proven wrong," Outcast replied, shaking her head with a bitter smile. "But a strike of that scale requires heavy military hardware. The garrison has both the artillery pieces and a clear political motive to carry it out."
Meanwhile, Janie walked down the cobblestone street in a daze. She couldn't shake the terrifying image of County Hillock reduced to burning rubble under high-yield artillery fire. The sheer horror of it made her skin crawl.
Suddenly, a battered leather ball bounced across the cobblestones, rolling to a stop right near her boots. Janie reached down and caught it in her hand.
It was an old, well-loved ball. She recognized it immediately—a young Taran boy often played with it in this square. It was the last keepsake his late father had left him.
Moments later, the boy jogged around the corner, searching for his ball. Spotting Janie, he froze in his tracks. He walked over in silence, took the leather ball from her outstretched hands, and turned away without a single word. He hurried off, keeping his head down.
Janie opened her mouth to say something, but the cold, guarded stares from the surrounding adults stopped her in her tracks. Their eyes warned her to stay away. To them, she wasn't just a friendly neighbor; she was a Victorian soldier.
The people gathered in this quarter were Tarans. Through years of systemic oppression and quiet manipulation, the two groups had grown to view each other as enemies rather than fellow citizens sharing the same soil.
"What's their problem, treatin' you like that?!" a cheerful voice piped up.
An orange-haired Vouivre stepped up beside Janie, huffing indignantly on her behalf.
"Didn't expect to run into another Vouivre here! The name's Bagpipe!" she introduced herself briskly.
Bagpipe didn't mention that she had actually been following her captain's plan to get closer to Talulah's group. She had lost track of them earlier and mistook Janie's golden hair for Jeanne's from behind! Only when she stepped closer did she notice the Vouivre horns and realize her mistake.
"I'm Janie, a ceremonial flag-bearer for the local garrison," Janie greeted her fellow Vouivre politely, before gently offering an excuse for the locals. "Please don't judge them too harshly. They've had a rough life here, so they naturally harbor some prejudice against Victorian troops."
Even now, Janie refused to hold malice toward them. The rift between the Tarans and Victorians wasn't a simple matter of right or wrong, though it pained her that a simple soldier like herself lacked the power to fix it.
"Aye, but that looked like more than just a wee bit o' prejudice to me," Bagpipe countered, shaking her head. "If they had the chance, I reckon they'd have taken a swing at ye! Ye best be careful around here, lass."
Bagpipe didn't care much for high-level political feuds between Tarans and Victorians—such convoluted matters were far too tedious for her taste. Given the choice, she'd rather smash through a wall with her pile bunker than unravel political tensions.
"By the way, have ye seen a lass who looks right like ye?" Bagpipe asked, remembering her original errand. "She should be travelin' with a real scary-lookin' woman with white hair and a fierce glare."
Janie blinked in surprise. "You mean Jeanne? What are you looking for her for?"
How did this newcomer already know about Jeanne? Janie had only just left the office herself!
"I've got business with the fierce-lookin' one, actually!" Bagpipe explained cheerfully. "Found out recently she's related to a good friend o' mine, so I was hopin' to have a wee chat with her."
"They're over at the Rhodes Island office," Janie replied, deciding to trust the straightforward Vouivre. Someone with an open face like Bagpipe's hardly seemed capable of deceit.
"Thanks a bunch!" Bagpipe called out, bounding off down the street with a cheerful wave. She didn't find it strange at all that Talulah was heading to a medical office—after all, she had heard the Draco was an Infected, so visiting Rhodes Island for treatment seemed completely natural.