Even Jeanne could tell these Dublinn operatives were acting completely rogue. This wasn't some calculated order passed down from the top; it was a desperate, back-alley decision made by mid-level fanatics.
Yet, because of these small-time fools, the ground had shifted under everyone's feet.
The surrounding Taran workers stood frozen, their minds struggling to process the scene before them. The soldiers they had quietly worshiped as their coming liberators had just turned their blades on them, while two complete strangers had stepped in to save their lives.
Overwhelmed by the chaotic turn of events, the crowd broke into confused, hurried whispers.
Then, someone in the back who recognized the newcomers blurted out that these two women were high-ranking leaders of Reunion—that they had come to Victoria specifically to protect infected workers. The rumor took root instantly, spreading through the panicked mob like wildfire.
Talulah listened to the surrounding chatter, her brow furrowing in irritation. How on earth had she become a local celebrity in County Hillock overnight? She had come to Victoria specifically to keep a low profile! Shouldn't she grab Jeanne and vanish before things spiraled further?
The situation had breached everyone's expectations. It had bypassed the plans of the Dublinn commanders, the local garrison, and every shadow-broker plotting in the dark.
Dublinn had never imagined two outsiders would step in and reap the rewards of their long-crafted setup. And the Victorian garrison certainly hadn't anticipated the force that was currently descending upon their artillery lines.
Just as the artillery crews prepared to load their second salvo, absolute hell broke loose over their encampment.
Projectiles rained down from the heavens like falling stars, slamming into the battery lines with pinpoint precision and shattering the Originium cannons into scrap metal.
Even Horn, who was preparing to leave the ridge, stopped in her tracks, unable to believe her eyes. She recognized those weapons, but she had never expected them to appear in a backwater place like County Hillock!
Deafening thuds echoed across the hills as massive armored bodies slammed into the earth. Dense, white steam erupted upon impact, rolling outward in thick, heavy waves that swallowed the entire encampment in a blinding fog.
From within the wall of steam, giant armored figures began to rise. The moment the garrison soldiers caught sight of those towering silhouettes, every ounce of their will to fight vanished into thin air.
If you asked a Victorian citizen what they believed in, you would get a hundred different answers. But if you asked them what they admired, revered, and dreamed of becoming, ninety percent of the country would give you the exact same answer:
The Steam Knights.
They were the pride and glory of Victoria—living legends whose mobilization had once guaranteed victory, the shining icons in the hearts of every soldier. The pinnacle of Victorian engineering, the ultimate war machines that had saved the nation time and again, stood right before them!
Nearly thirty Steam Knights stood tall upon the scarred earth. Even motionless, the deep hum of internal machinery, the hiss of pressurized steam venting from their exhaust ports, and the low rumble of their heavy footfalls vibrated through the ground, shaking the loose gravel beneath the soldiers' feet.
In the dead silence of the battlefield, the giant armored knights took a collective step forward. The faces of the garrison officers turned ash-white. They knew exactly why these living legends were here.
"All garrison troops of County Hillock," a deep, mechanical voice boomed from the lead suit, echoing over the ridge. "You are suspected of high treason against Victorian military law. By order of the High Council, command of this sector is hereby seized. Drop your weapons and surrender!"
It was not an offer. It was an absolute command.
Silence fell over the encampment. No one moved. No one dared to raise a weapon.
The soldiers turned their eyes toward their Colonel, waiting to see what decision he would make so they could follow his lead. They knew that even if they surrendered, their fate would be grim. If their commander ordered them to fight, some were even ready to launch a suicidal charge.
Not out of bravery, but because dying at the hands of the legendary Steam Knights felt like a fitting end for a Victorian soldier.
"Drop your weapons," the Colonel said, his voice completely drained of life. "We surrender."
He knew the game was over. Had it been a rival noble's unit, he might have used leverage or political intrigue to bargain for his life. But the Steam Knights answered to no single duke, and they certainly wouldn't spare a traitor for the sake of noble decorum.
Horn let out a long, quiet breath as the soldiers disarmed themselves. With these legendary war machines on the ground, whatever madness was taking hold of County Hillock could finally be suppressed. Her heart still ached for the Tarans in the city, assuming many had already perished in the initial barrage.
"Captain Horn," the lead Steam Knight said, turning his heavy visor toward her. His tone softened slightly. "We intercepted your long-range transmissions to Londinium. While I have little affection for the noble houses, your actions here do honor to your uniform. You have not tarnished the name of the White Wolf."
Horn inclined her head respectfully. "I only did my duty. Please, hurry to the Taran quarter. The situation there is far more complex than simple civil unrest, but the common people should not bear the brunt of this punishment."
"A strike team has already been dispatched into the city," the knight replied calmly. "This ends now."
Meanwhile, in the central square of the Taran district, Talulah was practically tearing her hair out.
"I am telling you, we are not here to lead anyone!" she snapped at the crowd pressing in around her.
The Taran workers were practically on their knees, pleading for the Draco to lead them in a grand revolution to reclaim their homeland and restore Taran glory.
But Talulah had zero interest in leading a Taran uprising. She had come to Victoria specifically to sever her last ties with the country's politics, not to get dragged into a local civil war. She had no desire to play kingmaker in a land she despised.
Yet the crowd refused to listen. Brainwashed for years by Dublinn propaganda about a returning Draco savior, seeing Talulah step out of nowhere to block an artillery barrage was all the proof they needed. They were ready to crown her on the spot.
Before Talulah could shut them down again, the air around the square suddenly turned bone-chillingly cold.
Eerie purple flames burst into existence around the perimeter of the square, flickering like phantom fires rising from the underworld.
Unlike Talulah's roaring, incandescent fire, which mirrored her hot-headed nature, these flames burned with a sickly, spectral chill that sent a shudder through the crowd.
"She speaks the truth," a cold, smooth voice echoed from above. "She is no longer a child of Victoria, nor is she the red dragon of our old legends. But I must still offer my thanks... for saving my people, greedy red dragon."
Stepping out from the ring of purple flames on a raised balcony stood a tall, commanding woman, looking down at Talulah and Jeanne with a faint, icy smirk.
Jeanne blinked, her eyes immediately darting toward the woman's lower back.
Wait a second...
Jeanne stared, comparing the silhouette in her mind. This new dragon's tail was noticeably thicker and longer than Loughshinny's!
She glanced sideways at Talulah. Yep, our dragon lost this round in the tail department.
Then again, Jeanne thought with a sudden smirk, we still have Fafnir. When that girl shifts into her true dragon form, nobody can touch her. Victory is still ours!