The heat rose rapidly, searing the air until everyone present instinctively shrank back. The surrounding soldiers shifted their weight, desperate to put distance between themselves and the two women to avoid being caught in the crossfire.
They knew their place all too well. In a clash of high-tier Arts, soldiers like them were nothing more than scenery—a wall of faces to project power. Against a true Draco, a single sweeping incantation would turn their entire line to cinders.
"If you refuse to depart, then we have no other choice," the white-robed individual declared, a flicker of feigned regret in her tone. Raising her hands, she began weaving her Originium Arts to drive the uninvited guests away by force. "I had hoped to avoid violence, but since you remain so obstinate, forgive me!"
In the blink of an eye, a wall of roaring flame surged toward Talulah and Jeanne. The white-robed woman was indeed a Draco; her Arts took the exact same form as Talulah's signature pyromancy.
The Dublinn soldiers cheered inwardly. They had witnessed this devastating flame melt armor and reduce formidable garrisons to ash across their long march. In their minds, no opponent could withstand their leader's wrath.
Mandragora, however, did not relax. She knew Talulah was also a Draco, which meant her pyromantic output might match—or even exceed—their leader's.
Yet what happened next stunned every Dublinn fighter present.
Talulah didn't even raise her blade. She merely shifted her stance, and an invisible, crushing pressure dispersed the oncoming sea of fire instantly, extinguishing the flames into thin wips of smoke.
"If that fragile flicker is the extent of your flame, abandon any foolish thoughts of driving me out," Talulah said, her voice echoing with heavy authority. "It is entirely impossible."
Through the brief collision of Arts, Talulah confirmed her opponent was indeed of Draco blood. Yet in terms of sheer mastery and raw output, the gap between them was immense. Talulah could unravel the girl's incantations with little more than a concentrated burst of her own aura.
Silence fell over the alley. The soldiers stared in absolute disbelief as their leader's supposedly invincible fire was shattered without effort.
"You..."
The white-robed Draco gasped, struggling to comprehend how her Arts had been neutralized so casually. She tried to summon another wave of fire, but quickly realized that no matter how much Originium energy she channeled, she couldn't break through Talulah's defensive aura. If she pressed any further, she risked being captured on the spot.
"Curse it... retreat!" Mandragora barked, sensing that the tide had turned completely. Staying any longer was sheer madness. If both she and their figurehead fell into enemy hands here, Dublinn's grand design would be ruined before it even began.
The soldiers needed no second invitation. The moment the order was given, they turned and scattered like mice, completely abandoning their leaders to cover the rear.
Not that either leader needed saving. Mandragora unleashed her Earth Arts once more, bringing down the brick facades of nearby buildings to block the alleyway, while the white-robed Draco hurled a final screen of smoke and fire to cover their escape.
"You should not have come here," a faint, whisper-thin voice drifted through the roaring fire, reaching Talulah's ears just as Mandragora turned her back. "A tragedy is brewing in this city. If you stay, you will be framed as the perpetrator. Leave... while you still can."
Before Talulah could process the message, the white-robed figure turned and darted into the alleyways with surprising agility, vanishing into the maze of backstreets.
"What did she mean by that?" Talulah frowned, staring down the empty alley. Why would an enemy give her such a warning? Was it a trick, or something more complex?
Turning around, Talulah looked at Jeanne, who was casually kicking away heavy piles of fallen masonry to clear a path.
"Did you really have to just stand there and watch?" Talulah complained. "If you had used your Arts, we could have seized her right then and there."
"And what would you have done with her if we caught her?" Jeanne asked, tossing a heavy stone aside with one hand. "She's clearly just a puppet pushed to the front to act as a figurehead."
Jeanne turned back with a thoughtful look. "Would you keep her by your side? Strike her down? Or hand her over to the Victorian garrison? Taran sympathizers are everywhere in this district; holding their icon hostage would have incited a full-blown riot."
The Taran population in this district ran deep; otherwise, Dublinn forces couldn't have cornered them so quickly.
"Still, it wasn't a total loss—we confirmed who is pulling the strings," Jeanne added, watching Talulah sigh in frustration. "Besides, even if you wiped out that entire squad, another would just take its place."
"I know," Talulah admitted, her expression darkening. "I'm just... concerned about what these people will drag the Taran populace into. If the Taran people genuinely seek to reclaim their homeland, I have no right to interfere. But if this entire uprising is merely a tool engineered by ambitious schemers for personal gain... I don't know what to think."
She could claim she wanted to stop the tragedy, but this was internal Victorian politics—not something an exiled Draco should meddle in.
"Well, there is one thing you could do," Jeanne suggested, a spark of inspiration hitting her. "You could strip the Victorian crown of the Draco legacy once and for all."
"Strip the legacy? What do you mean?" Talulah asked, genuinely puzzled.
"People keep using the Draco name and ancient glory to manipulate these crowds," Jeanne explained. "This Taran movement is just the latest attempt. But what if the Draco bloodline officially severed its ties to Victoria? What if you declared that the Draco no longer claim or protect this nation? You actually have the authority to do that."
As the last true heir of the Artorius line, Talulah's word carried absolute weight regarding her family's legacy. Regardless of what the Victorian nobility claimed, no one could deny her right as the blood heir.
"That is one way to handle it," Talulah remarked, shaking her head slowly. "Though it really just removes me from their narrative. Extinguishing a royal legacy that ruled a nation for centuries isn't something done on a whim or with a single speech."
"Take your time," Jeanne smiled softly. "By the way, shouldn't you check on the local Infected workers? The factory workers asked for your help earlier—you shouldn't keep them waiting. Even if you can't solve everything today, you can use your standing to keep them from being swept into this mess."
Reminded of her core purpose, Talulah nodded. Gathering her cloak, she bade Jeanne farewell and set off toward the industrial quarter to gather more intelligence from the workers.
Once Talulah departed, Jeanne remained behind, single-handedly clearing the mountain of rubble blocking the alleyway.
"Talk about poor administration," Jeanne grumbled to herself as she tossed away another shattered beam. "A fight breaks out in broad daylight, and not a single Victorian patrol even bothers to check on the noise!"
As she lifted the bottom layer of crushed brick, her eye caught a series of scorched marks etched into the stone—words written in Victorian script, burned into the surface with fine, controlled heat.
It was a message left behind by the white-robed Draco. The girl's true control over her pyromancy was clearly far more refined than the wild display she had put on earlier.
Jeanne read the scorched writing. It wasn't a full message, but rather a set of coordinates pointing to a grand ducal manor located within the upper tier of the city.
In three days, a grand banquet was to be hosted there—a covert gathering organized by the leadership of Dublinn.
Jeanne stared at the burned stone for a moment, her face unreadable. Without a word, she raised her boot and crushed the scorched brick into fine dust, kicking the powder into the gutter before casually strolling out of the alley as if nothing had happened.