When Mandragora heard Harmonie's near-imperious command, her first instinct was to snap back in a fury. Yet the cold, uncompromising edge in Harmonie's voice paralyzed her, leaving her no choice but to follow orders.
Scooping up the rigid leader, Mandragora summoned a dense swirl of sand and stone beneath her feet. Hovering above the ground, the two sped away together, breaking off from the main Dublinn group.
"You're using Mandragora and our 'Leader' as live bait?" A frivolous voice drifted out from the retreating officers, laced with provocation. The squad turned their eyes toward Harmonie. What was the schemer playing at now?
"And what, exactly, are you implying?" Harmonie narrowed her eyes, glaring at the speak-out officer. Her patience with these men was nowhere near as high as it was with Mandragora.
While Mandragora was useful, the rest of them were little more than cannon fodder—expendable pawns. How dare a piece of dead weight talk back to her?
"I'm merely suggesting," the officer drawled, undeterred by the chill in her voice, "that maybe it's time you let us see the real Leader's face. Using a fake to string us along is getting a bit hard to stomach."
Though the smoke obscured Harmonie's face, her icy tone betrayed her rising anger. The man had voiced his doubt because if things continued like this, mistrust would rot the rank and file from within.
"Heh... I wondered what had you so agitated," Harmonie chuckled softly, regaining her composure. "Our Leader is already en route to County Hillock. Once she arrives, you'll see her with your own eyes."
Her words eased the tension among the remaining officers. Knowing they would meet the true leader meant they weren't just sacrificial lambs to be discarded on a whim.
"Now keep moving," Harmonie ordered, casting a glance over her shoulder. Seeing that Jeanne wasn't following them, she smiled softly. Her deduction had been spot-on: Jeanne possessed a way to track the Draco specifically, which was why their location had been compromised. Who could have guessed such a ridiculous ability existed? Discovering it now was a blessing.
On the other side of the district, Mandragora was having a miserable time. Carrying her stiffened leader, she zipped across the rooftops on a cloud of stone, ducking through complex back alleys to shake off her pursuer. Yet no matter where she turned, the troublesome woman remained right on her heels!
How did that woman have so much stamina?! Flying through the air, Mandragora had nearly been brought down several times by flying debris and banner strikes!
"Have you had enough?!" Mandragora shrieked, her patience wearing thin. "You've been chasing us for blocks! Give it a rest!"
With their leader completely neutralized and herself outmatched in close combat, Mandragora was running out of options.
"Drop the Draco and I'll let you go!" Jeanne yelled up from the street, pointing at the frozen figure.
She didn't know Dublinn's full plan, but taking their Draco figurehead hostage would force them to delay their schedule. Time was precious, and stopping their momentum was her top priority.
Mandragora certainly wasn't going to hand over a victory so easily—or was she?
"You want her so bad? Take her!"
With a bitter sneer, Mandragora cut her Arts, letting the immobilized leader plummet from the roof. She was a fake anyway; once the operation succeeded, they could always fetch her back.
"Whoa!" Jeanne leaped forward, catching the falling Draco securely in her arms.
Relieved of the extra weight, Mandragora surged forward on a draft of stone, vanishing into the night sky before Jeanne could recover.
"...Fine. Primary target secured anyway," Jeanne muttered, looking down at the puppet in her arms as Mandragora flew out of range.
Setting the rigid Draco on her feet, Jeanne dusted her hands off. "Alright, you're coming with me. Don't try anything funny—you won't get far."
"Capturing me won't do you any good," the puppet leader said, her voice quiet and flat. "I am not the true leader. Losing me is nothing more than a minor lie for them to cover up. You should have gone after Mandragora..."
"Catching Mandragora wouldn't stop them either," Jeanne countered casually, walking alongside her. "If those people want to cause trouble, missing one officer won't halt their plan. I'd rather take a captive I can control—one who doesn't seem all that eager to fight back anyway."
As Jeanne escorted her back toward the main thoroughfare, they ran into Horn and Bagpipe hurrying toward them. The two Victorian soldiers stopped dead in their tracks, their eyes lighting up when they saw who Jeanne was dragging along.
"Blimey, Jeanne!" Bagpipe gasped, her eyes wide. "Ye actually snagged their grand leader! That's brilliant, it is!"
"Don't get your hopes up," Horn interjected with a sigh, giving her enthusiastic subordinate a weary look. "This is likely just a figurehead. The true leader is still out there."
"Wait, a fake?" Bagpipe blinked in disbelief. "They're using a rare, living Draco as a decoy? Talk about a waste!"
"She speaks the truth," the Draco captive murmured, offering no resistance or defense. "I am merely a puppet placed on display. Holding me changes nothing; the true leader will arrive soon."
Her complete lack of loyalty to Dublinn startled both Horn and Bagpipe. The captive freely divulged intelligence without needing a single threat or interrogation, hiding nothing.
While her cooperation was surprising, standing in the open wasn't safe. Securing her in a hidden location was their immediate priority.
"You two should..." Jeanne paused, taking a second look at the captive. "Actually, I'd better keep her with me. She's safer under my watch."
Jeanne didn't trust anyone else to contain a Draco. Even stripped of a staff, this woman's raw physical traits and latent Arts could overpower ordinary guards. Keeping her nearby—or handing her off to Talulah later tonight—was the safest bet. Talulah could easily handle a wild Draco if things went sideways.
"By the way," Jeanne asked, turning to her new shadow, "what should I call you? I can't keep calling you 'hey' or 'puppet'."
The woman remained silent for a long moment, her eyes fixed on the cold cobblestones. "A name... I cannot give you my true name. Just call me Reed. In the end, to her—to all of them—I am nothing more than a reed bending in the wind."
Her voice was low and heavy with unspoken sorrow. Shaking her head softly, she fell in behind Jeanne without another word.
Reed could tell that her fate under Victorian military custody would be grim at best. But with this strange woman—someone detached from Victoria's political machine—her safety was strangely guaranteed.
"Well... if you say so," Horn said, deciding not to press the issue. Deep down, she wished she could take the Draco into official military custody; as her primary high-value target, Reed was the ultimate proof of Dublinn's plot. But practically speaking, Horn knew she couldn't contain her if the Draco decided to break free.
Even without a staff, the flame at the tip of Reed's tail burned continuously—a constant reminder of the volatile magic coursing through her veins.
"Don't worry, I'll keep her in check," Jeanne reassured them. Suddenly, her ears twitched. Her expression hardened as her senses picked up a faint, disturbing disturbance down the street. "Something's wrong. Follow me!"
Before Horn or Bagpipe could ask, Jeanne grabbed Reed by the arm and darted toward the front gate of a nearby noble manor.
Horn and Bagpipe exchanged a bewildered look.
"Should we follow her, Cap'n?" Bagpipe asked, shifting her heavy spear.
"No," Horn said after a moment's thought. "She didn't ask for backup, so it might be a personal matter. Let's return to our staging point first, send another report to Londinium, and then I'll find that colonel to demand some answers."
While the two soldiers withdrew, Jeanne skidded to a halt in front of the grand estate.
Near the main entrance stood a young child, holding a stitched leather ball. The boy was winding up his arm, preparing to hurl the ball through the estate's heavy iron gates.
The moment the boy spotted Jeanne rushing toward him, he panicked and threw the ball with all his might.
Foom!
Jeanne didn't hesitate. She intercepted the ball in midair, her hand bursting into intense dragon flame. The heat incinerated the leather casing and the hidden explosive payload inside before it could hit the ground, reducing the makeshift bomb to harmless ash.
Jeanne turned her head, her glare landing on Reed, who had run all the way behind her, gasping for air.
"Does your organization really use children to carry out bomb attacks?" Jeanne asked, her voice laced with cold fury.
Reed looked at the frightened child, then down at the smoldering ash in Jeanne's palm. Her eyes widened, filled with utter confusion and shock. She had no idea what was happening.