"Can you please explain to us why your darling little boy went and botched such an important task?!" a deep voice snorted. "He begged me for days before I was willing to hand that job over to him!"
Bagpipe watched from the shadows as a squad of Dublinn soldiers surrounded a Feline woman. The woman was clutching a frightened young child tightly in her arms, looking as if the soldiers might cut them down at any moment.
"Judgin' by how these two acted, even if they didn't sell us out, it still crosses the line into betrayal, doesn't it?" the man in the center continued shouting, his face flushed with unhinged fury. He looked as though a single mistake had cost him his entire livelihood, his wild ranting making even Bagpipe feel uneasy.
This isn't a great time to be stickin' my nose in, Bagpipe thought to herself, shifting her weight behind the crates. But if those two get put in danger... should I step in an' give 'em a hand?
As she was debating her next move, a glint of golden hair caught her eye nearby. For a second, Bagpipe thought she had gotten extraordinarily lucky and stumbled across Jeanne.
Looking closer, however, she realized it was Janie. Up close, the two looked remarkably alike—anyone taking a passing glance could easily mistake one for the other.
Janie stood in the shadow of a alleyway, looking over at the mother and child with deep concern. She recognized them, but knew she couldn't step forward. If a Victorian soldier like her showed up right now, it would only put the mother and child in far greater danger.
"It... it was a lady with a long tail who grabbed me!" the small boy stammered, his voice trembling as he clung to his mother's skirt. "She brought us back... Oh, and her tail had purple flames burning on it!"
The child's words brought an abrupt silence to the aggressive crowd. Mandragora, who had come personally to drag out any traitors and make an example of them, stepped forward and hauled the boy up by his collar, her face twisted in anger.
"What did she say to you?!" Mandragora demanded sharply. "Did she leave anything behind?! Was there a despicable woman standing next to her?! Speak up!"
Besieged by the sudden barrage of questions, the mother and child froze, completely unable to answer. Desperate to make the angry soldiers go away, the mother pulled out the heavy burned cloak and handed it over.
Seeing the scorch marks carved into the fabric by the familiar dragon fire, Mandragora's eyes lit up with relief. Things weren't as catastrophic as she had feared.
"You've done well," Mandragora declared, her harsh tone softening slightly as she snatched the garment. "We'll forget about your previous blunder. Since these are the leader's instructions, you two stay put here. Everyone else, move out!"
Having secured the critical message, Mandragora had no intention of wasting time on a mother and child, leading her squad away into the dark streets.
"Consider yourselves lucky," the most fanatic soldier spat onto the ground, eyeing the pair with a look of pure disappointment. "Next time, you won't be so fortunate."
"Ronan, you..." The mother stared at the man, her eyes wide with disbelief.
He was her former neighbor. She remembered how often her family had helped him out in the past, back when her husband was still alive and they would sit together in her kitchen sharing drinks. How had he become such a cold stranger? The murderous look in his eyes earlier was no act—he had been shouting the loudest for their execution.
Ronan ignored the mother's stare. Instead, he puffed out his chest, turned around, and yelled at the lingering crowd: "What're you all staring at?! Get back inside your houses! Keep lurking out here and I'll start investigating every single one of you for treason!"
He looked like a fox posturing in front of a tiger—though at least a fox had wits, whereas this man seemed entirely devoid of them.
The departing Dublinn soldiers didn't even bother to glance back at Ronan strutting around. Everyone knew what kind of pathetic power trip he was on, but his loud threats served a purpose anyway—keeping any other foolish locals from entertaining thoughts of betrayal.
Bagpipe let out a quiet sigh of relief as the soldiers dispersed. Then, she saw Janie foolishly starting to walk toward the mother and child. Bagpipe quickly lunged out and yanked the girl back by her collar.
"They just got themselves off the hook!" Bagpipe hissed in a low voice. "Are ye completely mad, headin' over there as a Victorian soldier?! D'ye want those Dublinn thugs comin' back to hassle 'em all over again because o' you?! Come on, we're gettin' out o' here right now!"
She pulled Janie away down the dark alleyway. Even if she couldn't locate Jeanne and Talulah right away, sticking with Janie meant she was bound to run into them sooner or later.
"I'm sorry," Janie murmured, cold sweat breaking out on her back as Bagpipe's words hit home. She had momentarily forgotten her own military uniform. Approaching them wouldn't have been help—it would have been a death sentence for that family.
"I... I just don't know what I'm supposed to do anymore," Janie added softly, her voice filled with quiet despair.
"What do you think we should do next?" Talulah asked, her voice cutting through the quiet darkness of the room. "I feel like we've hit a wall. I'm not even sure what our next step ought to be."
Inside the safehouse bedroom, Jeanne and Talulah lay side-by-side on the bed, staring up at the dimly lit ceiling. Neither had been able to sleep, both processing the overwhelming rush of information from the day's events.
"How should I know?" Jeanne sighed, placing a palm over her forehead. "I feel like I walked straight into a giant swamp. All I wanted was to come here and stop a disaster, but now we're ankle-deep in filth. Walking away feels wrong, but pushing deeper feels just as bad. It's giving me a massive headache!"
Jeanne rubbed her temples in frustration. How could she have anticipated that a simple journey would entangle them in centuries of hatred between Victorians and Tarans, a deadly plot cooked up by the local garrison and Dublinn, scheming high-ranking officials behind the scenes, and the bloody history of the Draco being hunted in Victoria?
This was way beyond what a girl just trying to take a vacation should have to deal with! Why couldn't her Lord just grant her a peaceful break for once?
"I don't think you're quite as troubled as you claim," Talulah remarked calmly, not shifting her gaze from the ceiling. "If you were truly that stressed, you wouldn't still be playing with my tail. When do you plan on letting go?"
Beneath the heavy blanket, Talulah's dragon tail was squirming with all its might, but Jeanne's grip remained firm, lazily twisting the scaled appendage back and forth.
"Ah! Sorry, force of habit!" Jeanne pulled her hand back instantly, offering a sheepish grin. "I used to hold onto Fafnir's tail when we slept. I was wondering why your tail felt so much thicker than usual tonight..."
"Then let go of it!" Talulah turned her head to glare at her friend.
"My bad, my bad!" Jeanne laughed nervously, lifting her hands in surrender.
As soon as Jeanne released her grip, Talulah yanked her tail back under the cover. Why doesn't this woman have a tail of her own? Talulah thought bitterly. If she had one, I'd pull every single scale off it within a week!
"Setting that aside... what's your actual plan?" Talulah asked, her tone turning serious as she looked into Jeanne's eyes.
Truthfully, Talulah was equally at a loss. The ancient conflict between the Tarans and Victorians wasn't something the two of them could unravel in a single night. Unless they were willing to spend the next five years roaming Victoria to mediate between the two sides, they couldn't fix the root problem.
That simply wasn't realistic. Jeanne had the Seaborn threats to monitor, and both of them had Reunion to lead. They couldn't play guardian angels for the Taran people forever.
"Right now, my only focus is stopping this immediate catastrophe," Jeanne said, letting out a long, quiet breath. "As for what comes after... that's for the Victorians to settle among themselves. We're just a pair of passing travelers lending a hand, not the saviors of this nation."
"Did you... contact someone while I wasn't looking?" Talulah asked, catching the subtle implication in Jeanne's words.