Reed looked down at the blackened remains of the ball in confusion. She didn't understand why Jeanne was leveling such harsh accusations at her; in truth, she knew even less about Dublinn's lower-level maneuvers than the woman standing before her.
"If this was indeed part of our group's plan, I apologize," Reed said, her tone quiet and sincere. "But I ask you to believe me—I had no knowledge of this, nor did I know what this child was trying to do."
Jeanne studied her face for a moment. The grief in Reed's eyes was real. Besides, as a mere puppet on a string, high-level directives rarely trickled down to her anyway. The orchestrators of such vile tactics wouldn't bother informing a figurehead.
"Who... who are you people?!"
The young boy's face flushed bright red with frustration as he glaring at the two strangers. "Why did you stop me from getting my revenge?!"
He had summoned every ounce of courage to carry out his mission, only for these outsiders to destroy his chance. Overcome by anger, the child lost all fear, balling his fists as if he meant to pick a fight right there in the street.
"To save your life," Jeanne said simply. Scooping the child up by the back of his collar, she turned and walked away from the noble manor. Her inner revelation warned her that the danger was far from over; staying near the gates was asking for trouble.
"Let me go! Put me down!" The boy thritted and kicked, flailing his arms in a desperate bid to break free. "I'm not finished! I still have to—"
His struggles were entirely useless against Jeanne's grip. Held aloft like a stray chick, he looked like a runaway schoolboy caught by an older sister.
Passersby on the street barely spared them a second glance. In a city like this, a child being dragged off by an elder wasn't anything out of the ordinary. If anyone looked like a troublemaker here, it was the scowling kid, not the composed woman holding him.
"You've got quite a bit of spirit, don't you?" Jeanne remarked, completely ignoring the boy's glares as she carried him into a quiet, deserted alleyway before setting him down.
"What do you want from me?!" The boy stood his ground, glaring up at her with fierce resentment.
"Like I said, I'm saving your life," Jeanne replied smoothly. She was long accustomed to receiving defiance instead of gratitude from people she helped.
"I didn't ask for your help!" the boy snapped, turning to run back toward the noble estate.
"Who told you to do this?"
Before Jeanne could reach out, Reed stepped into the boy's path. Her tall frame blocked his escape, her eyes searching his face.
"That's... none of your business!" The boy faltered, taking a step back. Something about this soft-spoken woman made his heart race; she carried an air of quiet authority that felt entirely different from ordinary people.
"It is my business," Reed said gently. "You are Taran, which means the person who gave you that weapon answers to me—at least in name. Tell me. Who put you up to this?"
The boy stared at her, stunned into silence. After a long pause, he finally mumbled a name. "It was Uncle Ronan. He said... he said doing this would avenge my father."
Ronan.
Jeanne's eyes narrowed. She remembered the man—the arrogant local who had harassed the woman she met earlier. He was the same informant who had passed Talulah's whereabouts to Dublinn. It seemed the rascal was rising through the ranks.
"Then you need to stay far away from him," Jeanne advised the child. "Sending a boy to throw explosives isn't giving you revenge; it's using you as a disposable fuse. Actually... talking to you is useless. I'd better speak with your parents."
It was a matter best handled by adults. Reasoning with a grieving, manipulated child would yield nothing, but a parent might listen to reason.
"I don't believe a word you—"
BOOM!
A deafening detonation shattered the air behind them. The ground trembled beneath their feet as a brilliant plume of fire and debris erupted into the sky. The luxurious noble manor they had stood before moments ago was reduced to a burning pile of rubble in an instant.
"What... what...?" The boy froze, his jaw slack as he stared at the rising smoke. He hadn't thrown his ball inside—so why had the building exploded anyway?
"Do you understand now?" Jeanne said quietly, placing a hand on his shoulder. "They never expected you to get your revenge. They wanted a Taran child to trigger a massacre, giving those Victorian soldiers an excuse to declare open war on the locals. Once the fire started, nobody would care what happened to you—because you would have already served your purpose."
The cold reality hit the boy like a physical blow. The defiance drained from his posture, leaving him trembling in terror as he nodded submissively.
"I truly didn't think they would sink so low as to use children to ignite a war," Reed murmured, her eyes fixed on the burning ruins. "I knew they lacked morals, but this..."
Standing beside Jeanne, Reed finally voiced the disgust she had held back for so long. In the distance, she could almost hear the steady march of Dublinn's vanguard advancing through the smoke.
"Even if you dragged me out of there, it changes little," Reed added with a weary sigh. "My capture won't halt their steps. The machinery is already in motion."
"That may be true, but taking you out of their hands wasn't meaningless," Jeanne countered firmly. "First, let's get this kid back to his family. We'll see how things unfold from there."
Leaving the alley, Jeanne led the pair through the winding streets.
Meanwhile, back near the estate, Horn and Bagpipe—having retrieved their weapons—stared at the burning ruins of the manor in grim silence.
Oddly enough, right after the explosion leveled the house and executed the fleeing aristocrats, the Dublinn attackers had vanished into the shadows without pressing their advantage. It was an bizarre move; they had total momentum, yet chose to withdraw.
It seemed that losing their figurehead Leader had indeed thrown a wrench into their command structure, slowing down their timeline after all.
Unaware of the tactical shift, Jeanne arrived at the child's neighborhood. To her surprise, the boy's home belonged to the very woman she had assisted earlier.
"You should stay back," Reed suggested as they approached the small cottage. "Let me take the child inside."
In theory, letting a high-risk captive walk off alone was dangerous, but Jeanne agreed without hesitation and stayed behind.
Reed's reasoning was sound. If Jeanne—an outsider—brought the boy back, Dublinn's local informants might suspect betrayal and target the mother. But if Reed went alone, the local Tarans wouldn't dare question her presence. In this neighborhood, almost every wall had Dublinn eyes behind it.
"Where on earth have you been?!" The woman rushed to the door, pulling her son inside with frantic hands. She looked terrified, convinced the boy had gotten into deep trouble.
"I know I have no right to preach," Reed said softly, stepping into the dimly lit room, "but you must watch your son closely. He is far too easily swayed by men with dark motives."
Reed quietly explained what the boy had almost done. The mother turned pale, clutching her heart in horror. Had Reed not intervened, she likely would have collapsed on the spot.
"I cannot stay long," Reed murmured, looking out the narrow window. "If that man named Ronan comes back, give this to him and tell him to deliver it to his leader."
Reed unclasped her heavy cloak, handing it to the stunned woman. The inner lining of the fabric was scorched with strange, dark burn marks from her unrefined Arts.
Before the woman could gather her thoughts to ask a single question, the Draco stepped out the door and vanished into the foggy street, leaving no trace behind.