Even though they had already sensed something was amiss, the girls fell into a heavy, thoughtful silence the moment Jeanne voiced her suspicion. Each of them weighed the weight of her words, grappling with what it meant if she was right.
If this warning held true, it meant their every step over the past few weeks had been taken right under the enemy's watchful eyes—with almost no real defense to protect them.
"Are you certain it's the local garrison, and not some outside faction?" Horn asked again, her voice tight with strain. She clearly fought against the idea that Victoria's own soldiers could turn coat and betray their oaths.
"If we know for a fact that those munitions came directly out of the military stockpiles," Jeanne said softly, "then we have to face reality. There is at least one insider embedded deep within the local ranks, feeding them access so they can orchestrate this whole scheme."
Jeanne didn't blame Horn for doubting it. Refusing to believe that one's own comrades could commit treason was a natural, painful hurdle for any officer to cross.
"Actually, we ran into that shadowy force you keep talking about earlier today," Talulah interjected, bringing up a point Jeanne had overlooked. "They're a full coalition of Tarans gathered around a Draco. And the arms they were carrying? No ragtag band of wandering insurgents could ever lay hands on hardware like that."
While Jeanne had been focused on the Draco and the green-haired Feline at her side, Talulah had been quietly studying their gear. Those weapons had come straight off a high-grade military assembly line.
Having led an army from squalor and poverty to complete self-sufficiency, Talulah recognized military-grade craftsmanship when she saw it. From the quality of those rifles alone, she knew the figure orchestrating this held immense power and influence.
The realization struck Horn like a heavy blow. If their foe were merely a opportunistic conspirator trying to carve out a slice of Victoria amidst the current chaos, she wouldn't hesitate to put a bullet through their skull. But if the puppet master turned out to be an actual high-ranking noble...
"Their leader is a Draco?" Horn stammered, staring at Talulah in disbelief. "Are you sure? Isn't that bloodline supposed to be extinct? It felt surreal enough when you appeared out of nowhere—how are more of them suddenly crawling out of the woodwork?"
She couldn't make sense of it. A race that should exist only in history books was suddenly standing right in front of her—not once, but twice.
"Extinct on paper, perhaps," Talulah said with a dismissive wave of her hand. "A lineage that vast always leaves survivors behind in the shadows. Besides, if someone with real authority wanted to hide a Draco away until the right moment... well, it isn't that hard to keep a secret when the secret is useful."
A faction led by a Draco... Everyone sitting at the table realized the terrifying truth. This wasn't just a bitter feud between Tarans and Victorians anymore; the web of deceit ran far deeper and far darker than any of them had imagined.
"At... at any rate, no matter how grim it looks, our duty right now is to stop this tragedy before it unfolds, isn't it?" Bagpipe chimed in, she stepped in to break the heavy tension hovering over her squad leader. "We just need to make sure the terrible future Jeanne saw doesn't come to pass! Or at the very least, pull as many poor souls out of the fire as we can, like!"
"She's right," Horn agreed, taking a slow breath as she regained her military composure. "Our immediate focus must be stopping that catastrophe. We'll deal with the political fallout later."
She looked toward Jeanne with a sharp, determined glint in her eyes. "We'll keep a close eye on the garrison regarding that traitor. Truth be told... I already have a few suspects in mind."
Though reluctant to suspect her fellow officers, Horn possessed the cold discipline needed to face uncomfortable truths. In a matter of seconds, her mind had narrowed down a handful of figures with the rank and access to pull off such a scheme.
"Please act quickly," Janie added, her expression somber. "I haven't found concrete proof inside the camps yet, but I can feel the tension rising every single day. The hatred toward the Taran civilians is spiraling out of control. People who used to be friendly neighbors are looking at Tarans like they want to wipe them out completely."
"It's because soldiers from the local barracks have been vanishing without a trace lately," Horn noted grimly. "The troops are on edge, and a rumor started spreading out of nowhere that the Tarans are slaughtering our missing men..."
"It seems every bad piece of news is breaking at the exact same time," Jeanne remarked, chewing thoughtfully on the last piece of fried scale-beast from her plate.
That was the real danger hanging over their heads. They had barely gathered any actionable clues, yet the enemy's master plan seemed ready to detonate at any second. Time was rapidly running out.
"So... what's our next move then?" Bagpipe asked, looking around the table.
Her simple question left everyone stumped. Without a clear trail to follow, deciding what to do next was a massive hurdle in itself.
"Bagpipe and I will head back and keep probing the garrison," Horn decided, standing up. "Even if we don't catch them red-handed today, we might flush out the traitor's trail if we push hard enough."
With that, Horn and Bagpipe took their leave. Janie excused herself shortly after, needing to return to her duties before her absence raised suspicion among her superiors.
Left alone at the table, Talulah looked down at Jeanne's empty plate with a hint of amusement. "What now? Do you want another serving of scale-beast? I had no idea you loved the stuff so much."
Jeanne hastily waved her hands, pulling a face. "No, please! I just... ugh, I can't explain it, but it definitely wasn't because I liked it that much."
"If you say so," Talulah chuckled, rising from her chair. "Since we're short on leads, I'm going to check on the local Victorian workers. A few of the factory hands who wrote letters to our movement mentioned they were stationed in this city. If I meet with them directly, I might learn something useful..."
As Talulah turned to leave, Jeanne's face suddenly went pale. Her eyes widened in sheer panic as a terrible realization hit her—she had completely forgotten to mention a crucial detail!
Seeing Jeanne's sudden distress, Talulah paused, wondering if her friend had swallowed a bone or remembered something terrible.
"I messed up!" Jeanne groaned, clutching her head in frustration. "I completely forgot to tell them about that secret signal! How could I slip up on something that important? I should have told Horn the moment we sat down!"
Talulah stared at the distraught girl for a long moment, her expression entirely unreadable. Finally, she said in an unhurried tone, "And here I thought you kept quiet on purpose. After all, telling two Victorian officers might have tipped off the enemy that their secret leaked out. Seems I gave you too much credit."
Instead of telling Jeanne that this very establishment was a Rhodes Island safehouse—and that simply leaving a quick note with the contact here would deliver the message to Horn just fine—Talulah chose to savor her friend's rare moment of frantic foolishness a little longer.
Watching Jeanne panic was honestly quite entertaining, so long as you had a plausible excuse ready once she eventually figured things out.
Talulah offered a flimsy, offhand excuse to cover her silence, then slipped out the door before Jeanne could grill her. Seeing the speed at which the Draco vanished down the street, Jeanne doubted she could run that fast even if her house were on fire.
Jeanne shook her head with a sigh, fetched a piece of parchment, and penned a quick letter for the contact known as the Cook.
With her note left safely behind, she stepped out into the crisp air. Just like the others, Jeanne had her own mission to carry out—and there were preparations she needed to make before the storm finally broke over the city.