When Enya stepped back into the chamber, the first thing that caught her eye was Kjera chatting with two visitors, her expression tinged with such deep sorrow that she looked ready to burst into tears. It was as if her beloved handmaid had just been bullied right under her nose.
A sudden flash of protective concern surged in Enya's chest. Had someone taken advantage of her absence to upset her dearest companion?
"It's nothing of the sort, Enya. The Doctor simply told a rather poignant story, and I suppose I was just swept up in the emotion of it," Kjera hastily explained, dabbing at the corner of her eye to wipe away non-existent tears.
That reassuring explanation allowed Enya to breathe a sigh of relief. Kjera had never once deceived her in all the years they had spent together, so she accepted the words at face value.
"What kind of story could possibly move you to tears like that?" Enya asked, tilting her head with a gentle, inquisitive smile as she turned toward the guests.
"Just a tale about a traveler who believed all her kin had long since passed away, leaving her utterly alone in the world, only to stumble upon word of her living kindred out on the road," the Doctor quickly improvised, smoothing over the awkward slip with a seamless fabrication. Enya nodded thoughtfully, genuinely surprised that Kjera had such a soft spot for sentimental folklore.
"You must be the Doctor, then," Enya said, turning her full attention to the hooded strategist. "I've heard quite a bit about you from various reports. Thank you so much for taking such good care of my younger sister during her time at Rhodes Island."
Shifting seamlessly into the persona of a doting older sibling, Enya's face lit up with radiant warmth. To the Saintess, there was nothing in this world more precious than young Ensia.
Ever since Jeanne had first mentioned the Doctor during their initial encounters, Enya had been searching for an opportunity to express her gratitude and ask the strategist to keep looking after her sister.
"You really don't need to be so formal," the Doctor waved a hand dismissively. "Ensia—Cliffheart—is a remarkably popular operator and a wonderful friend to everyone at our base. Having her on the roster is our absolute gain."
As they conversed, the Doctor quickly realized that whenever the topic drifted back to Ensia, the Saintess's usual composed veneer melted away, replaced by an ocean of sisterly devotion.
"If you don't mind my asking... how long has it been since you last saw your sister face-to-face?" the Doctor asked softly, suddenly realizing a glaring gap in her knowledge.
She knew the sisters had been separated for a long time, but as she thought about it, she had no idea just how many years had slipped by.
"How long has it been...?" Enya echoed, her brows knitting together as she settled onto a wooden chair to retrace the passage of time. After a long pause, she finally answered, "Several years, perhaps? Living up here in the mountains has this terrible way of blurring the days together until life feels completely unreal."
She couldn't even pin down an exact number. Ever since she had been elevated to the position of Saintess, she had been systematically cut off from Ensia.
The reason was painfully simple: the hardliners of the Vine-Bear Court strictly forbade her from maintaining contact with any members of the Silverash Clan. In that regard, their surveillance had been relentlessly absolute.
"I see..." the Doctor murmured, a heavy weight sinking into her chest. Even though she had guessed as much, hearing Enya confirm it firsthand was deeply unsettling.
"I've certainly thought about visiting her, but..." Enya offered a bitter, self-deprecating smile, her eyes clouding over with sorrowful memories. "The monks of the Vine-Bear Court would never allow me to interact with anyone from the Silverash Clan. They'd rather I remain isolated in this room, basking in the blind fervor of the pilgrims. Before you arrived, even my scheduled audiences with believers were heavily monitored."
So the Saintess's daily existence was far more tragic than a simple title suggested. The Doctor privately thought that a standard prison cell offered more freedom than this golden cage.
"Then let's go see her right now!" the Doctor declared, springing abruptly to her feet. The Doctor of Rhodes Island was going to take the Saintess out tonight and reunite her with her little sister!
With Enciodes plotting a violent coup from the shadows, missing this fleeting window of opportunity might mean the sisters would never get another chance to clear the air.
"Eh? We can just leave?!" Enya gasped, staring at the Doctor in sheer disbelief. She recalled Jeanne's earlier descriptions of this chaotic, reckless strategist, but she hadn't expected the woman to propose breaking out of a guarded religious sanctuary on a whim. "Won't this cause a massive uproar?"
"Who cares about them? We just need to slip out while everyone's distracted!" the Doctor scoffed. "I refuse to believe those stuffy monks are going to stand guard outside your door in this weather instead of sneaking off to find some warm mulled wine!"
Knowing the typical habits of the clergy from Jeanne's previous briefings, the Doctor was willing to bet her entire wardrobe that their supervision wasn't as airtight as they pretended.
"Even if that's true, I don't know the layout of the guard posts outside, nor do I have a way past them..." Enya sighed helplessly.
"That's the easiest part!" The Doctor immediately spun around, fixing her gaze entirely on Jeanne. The heavy implication in her stare practically begged the Laterano Saintess to step up.
Jeanne felt an immediate urge to drop everything and walk out of the room. "Lady Saintess, you wouldn't want a sister who misses her sibling dearly to go unsatisfied, would you?"
"Are you quoting bad Eastern dramas now?" Jeanne rubbed her temples, shooting the Doctor an exasperated glare. "Why do you always sound so deeply suspicious when you pitch these ideas?"
"Come on, save the complaints for later!" the Doctor pleaded. "Tonight's the night. You're the only one who can guide us past the patrols seamlessly."
Trapped under the expectant gazes of the three women, Jeanne finally surrendered with a soft groan of defeat. Working overtime on a snowy night was not on her ideal itinerary.
"Fine, fine. We move tonight," Jeanne conceded, casting a glance outside. "You'd better hope the snow gets heavier by midnight, because that's our only cover."
With the plan set, Jeanne slipped out of the room to scout the perimeter. Even with her precognitive Revelation guiding her steps, she preferred to map out the physical terrain in advance to ensure zero surprises.
Everything unfolded precisely as Jeanne had foreseen. By late afternoon, the gentle flurries transformed into a howling blizzard. By midnight, thick drifts swallowed the mountain paths, and the howling winds drove every single guard indoors. Not a single sentinel was foolish enough to freeze in the gale just to watch an empty hallway.
Right on schedule, the heavy wooden door clicked open, and Jeanne stepped inside to escort Enya out into the blinding white storm.
"That lazy strategist!" Jeanne muttered through clenched teeth, leaning against the wind. "She proposed the whole damn breakout, and now she's comfortably tucked away in bed just so she can cover for you if anyone checks the room!"
"Her constitution really isn't suited for this kind of freezing weather," Enya defended gently, though her breath plumed white in the sub-zero air. "I'd worry she might actually get swept off the mountain by the wind if she tried to follow us."
"Let's not waste breath on her," Jeanne said, tightening her grip on Enya's hand. "Keep close to me. In this kind of visibility, losing your footing means getting lost in the drifts."