Upon hearing Jeanne's point-blank declaration, the battle-tested Steam Knight froze for a brief moment. A complicated look flickered across his face before he quickly tried to smooth things over.
"Now... why would you say such a thing?" he sputtered. "How could we possibly release those prisoners on purpose? Their only rightful place is inside a Victorian prison..."
Though his words sounded composed enough, his subtle body language betrayed his inner panic—his drifting gaze and stiff smile made his guilt obvious.
He tried his best to explain away the situation as a misunderstanding, but there was no mistake to clear up. He simply hoped the girl wouldn't uncover the truth. They worried she might spread the news, especially since she fell far outside their chain of command and couldn't be ordered around.
"No need to waste your breath on excuses," Jeanne said, shaking her head as she met his forced expression head-on. "I'm not here to blow the whistle on your little scheme. I just want to know what happened and what you plan to do next. I know you wouldn't pull something like this lightly—for all your appetite for political leverage, you still hold on to your honor."
The middle-aged Feline knight—old enough to be Jeanne's father—gazed down at the girl with a weary sigh. He realized then that pulling the wool over her eyes was impossible.
Strictly speaking, his squad had arrived here at Jeanne's request, and the last thing he wanted was to pick a fight with a Saintess of Laterano.
After all, he would have to deal with Laterano for a very long time to come.
"Honestly, it's nothing complex," the Feline knight admitted after a long silence, rubbing his temple. "We simply knew those prisoners would never survive the trip to a proper prison. There are already far too many Taran soldiers in this garrison who have lost faith in the ranks. Leaving them locked up here would only trigger more chaos down the line, and we don't have the manpower to run a long-term prison camp."
The conflicted twist in his eyebrows showed just how few options he really had. This terrible compromise was the only card left in his hand.
"We couldn't maintain long-term control over the local garrison anyway. So, we took this opportunity to let those Taran soldiers slip away. You wouldn't believe it, but the colonel actually intended to purge every single Taran soldier in the camp. By letting them escape during the commotion, we can simply write them off as missing in action..."
The knight laid out his sheer powerlessness. Even with the formidable war engines of the Steam Knights at their disposal, raw strength couldn't fix a broken system. If it could, they wouldn't have been pushed into this corner in the first place.
"It might sound hard to believe, but after reviewing the situation, our only consensus was to step back and let it run its course. This mess isn't something we have the capacity to intervene in, nor is it a crisis a handful of knights can turn around."
His tone sank. That was the tragic irony of the Steam Knights: their hands were tied, while those who feared them only worried about their lingering influence among the populace. Beyond that, nobody in power gave a damn about what they stood for.
"So, even without a formal agreement with Dublinn, you both reached a quiet understanding," Jeanne remarked smoothly. "You stepped aside and let them sort out the Taran and Dublinn affairs on their own terms?"
As they spoke, the two arrived in front of a ruined warehouse. The structure had been reduced to a pile of smoldering rubble; it was impossible to tell whether anyone inside had survived.
"We didn't realize what was happening until the fire broke out," the knight continued, tugging down the brim of his cap. He glanced instinctively at Jeanne, but her expression remained completely calm. "Not a single guard posted at this sector was Taran. The fact that Dublinn managed to slip right up to the building means the infiltration inside our forces goes far deeper than we thought."
"Tell me," Jeanne said, turning her eyes toward the knight. "Who do you think is the grand figure pulling the strings behind them? Earlier, we heard a voice... a very old voice over the broadcast."
She had already guessed how thoroughly the Victorian military had been compromised. Aside from the top brass, hardly anyone in the local garrison was fighting out of genuine loyalty to Victoria.
"If you're asking about suspects, several high-ranking figures fit the bill," the knight replied grimly. "That includes Duke Wellington himself, who currently commands the greatest military force. He's actually the most likely candidate. Rumor has it he's secretly a Taran, but even if he isn't, he has always been a noble patron of the Taran cause."
Hearing that, Jeanne finally understood why the knights refused to meddle further. The entire affair was a tangled web of political interests; pulling a single thread only exposed a deeper mess. Just thinking about it was enough to give anyone a headache.
"Aren't you worried?" The Knight asked. "Those Dublinn members escaped, after all."
"Worried about what?" Jeanne shrugged nonchalantly. "If those guys come looking for trouble, I'll just beat them down again. It's not like I've ever lost a fight before."
She gave her arm a light flex to emphasize her point. The knight's mind flashed back to the moment he arrived on the scene earlier—the girl's raw combat power was far more terrifying than any report had suggested.
"Fair point," he said, touching his cap again with a forced chuckle. "Your martial prowess is... well beyond what any of us expected."
He paused, his voice dropping an octave. "Though you can rest easy on one account. It's very likely none of those captives made it out alive. When our men rushed over, all we heard was a wave of agonizing screams from inside the fire."
Recalling those sounds made even the veteran warrior shudder. The unearthly wails had sounded like tormented phantoms.
Jeanne fell quiet. Having experienced the agony of burning flames herself, she understood all too well what those people went through—and why their screams were so bloodcurdling.
The knight noticed the sudden gravity on her face. To him, it looked as though the Saintess was deeply mourning the dead. He couldn't wrap his head around why a young girl would react so strongly to a fire. Was this some kind of sacred Laterano tradition?
Before he could ponder it further, a messenger ran up to them out of breath, breathlessly reporting the outbreak of the massive riot in the Taran quarter.
You're only getting news of this now? Jeanne thought, amazed by how remarkably slow their communications were.
"Someone intentionally cut off our scouts from reporting on that sector," the knight explained, throwing his hands up in frustration.
As he listened to the detailed briefing, his face grew increasingly grim. The situation was spiraling far beyond a simple domestic disturbance.
"As you can hear, things out there have escalated to the point where troop deployment might be necessary," he said, looking at Jeanne with a helpless expression. "But we don't want a bloodbath. We want the Tarans to stand down, and we intend to hold the garrison accountable for their previous actions..."
He trailed off, subtly passing the burden onto her shoulders. If Jeanne could somehow defuse the riot, the knights could pretend the whole mess never reached a breaking point.
"Don't worry," Jeanne said, her tone firm and steady. "My friend will handle it smoothly. She won't let the Tarans become collateral damage in this political game."
"I certainly hope so," the knight replied with a heavy nod.