Despite the harsh threats and intimidation hurled at them from every side, the crowd of protesting factory workers refused to budge. They stood tightly packed around the gates of the Paleroches Clan estate, their unified, furious chants echoing so loudly that even the people deep inside the castle walls could hear every word with crystal clarity.
"We need our jobs back! Reopen the factories now, or else—"
These laborers hadn't come seeking a fight for the sake of causing trouble. But ever since the Paleroches Clan issued the total shutdown order across all local processing plants, life for these families had spiraled out of control.
Many had grown accustomed to the rhythm of factory work, relying on their daily wages to put food on the table and keep their households running. Losing their livelihoods overnight wasn't just a minor inconvenience—it was a direct threat to their very survival.
To make matters worse, entire families often worked in the same facility. The abrupt closure meant their household income dropped to zero in a single afternoon, effectively leaving them to freeze and starve in the harsh Kjerag winter.
Driven by the sheer desperate instinct to survive, this unified crowd unleashed a frightening surge of collective will—a force formidable enough to make even the mighty Paleroches Clan take notice.
Though completely unarmed, over a thousand fearless, desperate workers standing shoulder to shoulder presented a threat that no military commander could safely ignore.
"Hurry! Go inform the Clan Chief and the Grand Elder!" a panicked overseer shouted to a subordinate, his hands shaking. If this kept up, he couldn't guarantee he'd be able to hold the line much longer.
"What?! Over a thousand people gathered outside making a scene?" Arctosz bellowed, his wide bear eyes bulging in utter disbelief. He turned to glare at the messenger, an Ursus officer who was sweating profusely and hadn't even remembered to put down his sidearm before rushing in with the news. "Are you sure they're just protesting, or are they attempting a full-blown coup to overthrow the Grand Elder and me?!"
"We... we can't be entirely sure, Chief!" the messenger stammered, wiping sweat from his brow. "There are simply too many of them to count! But none of them seem to be carrying weapons, so... it really does look like a massive protest."
"Protests! Protests! It's always protests!" Arctosz ranted, his temper flaring higher. "Since when did these commoners learn this ridiculous concept of 'protesting'? And since when did they start using it as a weapon to dictate terms to us?!"
Arctosz loathed these modern developments with every fiber of his being. To him, every single innovation brought by the Silverash Clan was a terrible contagion, corrupting the pristine purity of their snowy homeland.
Ever since the locomotive tracks were laid, the roar of steel engines had shattered the sacred silence around the Saint Mountain. Ever since the factories fired up their furnaces, heavy black smoke had drifted across the pristine glaciers, staining the sky.
Before all this, nobody in Kjerag cared about Oripathy, nor were there many infected individuals wandering the valleys. But the moment the industrial plants opened, the disease took root, followed by all the tedious protocols and regulations meant to manage it.
And now, the people of Kjerag had become so dependent on these cursed factories that they couldn't even survive without them. To Arctosz's traditional mindset, hearing such a thing was as absurd as it was infuriating.
"Chief, don't we still have that outside advisor on retainer?" an officer nearby suggested, trying to offer a sensible path forward. "Why don't we invite the Doctor over and see how she recommends handling this mess?"
Although many within the Paleroches Clan harbored a deep distrust for the outsider, even they had to admit the Rhodes Island strategist knew how to handle crisis management. Over the past two days, her administrative tweaks had smoothed over several local disputes—without her intervention, the crowd outside today wouldn't just be a thousand workers, but several thousand.
It was undeniable that she possessed real talent in these matters.
"No need," Arctosz snapped without a second thought. "I admit that Doctor person has her share of clever tricks, but her methods are far too soft and tedious!"
Arctosz was determined to use a far more direct, blunt approach to teach these workers a lesson—one that would prove, once and for all, that their little 'protests' meant absolutely nothing to him.
"That thing our men seized from the factory storehouse earlier... right, those Originium explosive charges! Do you boys know how to set those off yet?"
He turned to look at his lieutenants, receiving a few cautious nods in response.
"Good! Find an empty warehouse near the southern perimeter, and herd the whole crowd over there!" Arctosz commanded, a look of grim satisfaction washing over his broad face.
"Umm... Chief," one of his lieutenants hesitated, his face turning pale. "Buried alive in a collapsed building? Isn't that... a bit too brutal? There are over a thousand people out there. If word gets out that we slaughtered them, the Clan's reputation will—"
"What the hell are you blabbering about?!" Arctosz barked, glaring at the man as if he had lost his mind. "I'm just going to blow up an empty warehouse to scare the living daylights out of them! Do I look like a bloodthirsty monster to you?!"
Brutish as he was, Arctosz was far from insane. Massacring a thousand Kjerag citizens would earn him a trip straight to a executioner's block, clan chief or not.
Realizing their leader's actual plan, the lieutenants let out a collective sigh of relief. They hurried out to organize the guards and guide the loud, angry crowd toward the southern storehouse district.
Today, the Paleroches Clan was going to give these people an 'explanation' they'd never forget.
"Where are all those people heading? Why did the streets suddenly get so crowded?"
Inside a cozy local inn room, Jeanne sat by the window, staring out at the snowy streets with a thoroughly bored expression. Nearby, Alina, Blaze, and the Doctor were gathered around a small table playing cards, each of their faces littered with funny paper strips from previous losses.
"Probably some local festival or public gathering," the Doctor replied casually, not even bothering to look up from her hand. "The Saintess came down from the mountain yesterday, so it's normal for more people to gather in town today. I play a pair of threes."
"It really doesn't look like a festival..." Jeanne sighed, slumping forward onto the table with a dramatic groan. "Aaargh, this is so boring! Why won't you guys let me join the game?"
"Because you cheat like it's your full-time job!" Blaze scoffed, adjusting a paper strip stuck to her forehead. "Every time we play with you, we get completely wiped out. Why would we willingly suffer through that?"
Blaze would never forget her last card game with Jeanne. Even when she and the Doctor blatantly tried to coordinate their hands under the table, Jeanne still managed to crush them with terrifying ease.
"Hey! You cheat too, don't you? Like using your tail to swap cards with the Doctor when nobody's looking!" Jeanne protested, pouting from the table. "Why do I get singled out while you two get a free pass?"
Still slumped against the wood, Jeanne kept her eyes glued to the cards, subtly dropping a hidden cue to Alina so the gentle Elafia could secure the winning hand.
"Attention, everyone!" a booming voice suddenly echoed up from the street below. "The Paleroches Clan has spoken! Gather at the southern warehouse district, and the Clan will address all factory closures and give us a formal explanation!"
The announcement immediately caught Jeanne's attention. The Paleroches Clan? An explanation regarding the factories? That sounded like a disaster waiting to happen.
"I'm going out to see what's going on. I'll bring back the gossip," Jeanne said, popping up from her chair and heading for the door. Right at the threshold, she paused and looked back at Alina with a cheeky grin. "Oh, by the way—play that card next, then follow up with the king, and you win!"
The nerve of this girl—blatantly giving away the winning strategy right before walking out!
Blaze and the Doctor practically erupted, slamming their palms onto the table as they stood up to give Jeanne a piece of their mind. But Jeanne was already halfway down the stairs. The two turned back to look at Alina, who merely offered them a sweet, innocent smile.
A heavy, defeated silence fell over the table.
"Fine! We'll count this as your win," the Doctor grumbled, shuffling the deck with aggressive determination. "Let's go again! I refuse to believe I can lose this badly without Jeanne around!"
Drawing her new hand, the Doctor looked at the high cards in her grip, her confidence instantly restored as she declared herself the landlord.
"Pair of fives!" she announced proudly.
Five minutes later, the Doctor hadn't managed to play a single additional card. She sat there in stunned silence, watching Blaze and Alina seamlessly pass control back and forth until both of their hands were completely empty.
"You guys are way too..." The Doctor swallowed hard.
Meanwhile, down near the southern perimeter, Jeanne observed the massive crowd of hopeful workers hurrying toward the storehouse, letting out a soft, pitying sigh.
She didn't buy for a single second that the traditionalist Paleroches Clan would ever reopen the factories just because of a public protest. Arctosz and his elders would like nothing better than to see these workers give up their machinery and return to tilling the mountain soil.
Still, since the Clan Chief was putting on a public show, Jeanne decided to stick around and see what kind of stunt he was planning to pull.
Just as the thought crossed her mind, a deafening explosion shattered the winter air.
BOOM—!
A massive fireball erupted from the center of the southern warehouse, blowing the roof completely off as a blinding shockwave ripped through the timber frame, reducing the entire structure to a mountain of flaming rubble in a single second.
Evidently, whoever set the Originium demolition charges had severely miscalculated the dosage.
The sheer violent force of the blast sent shockwaves of sheer terror through the crowd. Men and women shrieked in panic, desperately trampling over one another as they tried to flee the rising wall of fire and smoke.
As the thick dust slowly settled, a towering, heavy figure emerged from the haze, stepping over the burning wreckage.
Arctosz strode forward, his massive frame framed by the roaring flames behind him as he glared down at the terrified workers.
"I heard you people were demanding a formal explanation from my Clan," Arctosz boomed, his voice carrying over the crackle of burning timber. "So I came here today to give you one. And as you can see... this is my answer!"
Standing amidst the fleeing crowd, Jeanne slapped a palm onto her forehead, utterly speechless.
She had expected a stern lecture or a show of military force—she had never imagined the chief of the Paleroches Clan was such a complete, unmitigated brute.