"Aha! So this is what it actually feels like to cruise through the sky?" W shouted over the rushing wind, her voice brimming with pure excitement as she chatted with Jeanne from her seat on the wyvern's back. It was blazingly obvious that she was thoroughly enjoying every second of the flight.
Jeanne, shifting slightly to the side, watched the mercenary's ecstatic display with a growing sense of confusion. She couldn't help but wonder if something had gone fundamentally wrong inside the woman's head. During their initial introduction a few days back, the Sarkaz had seemed like a perfectly quiet, reserved young lady. How could a slight increase in familiarity cause her to completely rewrite her entire persona like this?
Staring at the wildly gesturing cockroach-themed mercenary beside her, Jeanne realized her previous inkling about W possessing a lively nature hadn't been a mere whim. If anything, the woman was far too lively.
This manic, boundary-pushing behavior had completely crossed the line from energetic into absolute hyperactivity. Jeanne privately speculated whether W's own mercenary squad had left her stranded at Babel for this exact reason—simply to keep her out of sight and grant themselves a temporary reprieve from the headache.
It was glaringly clear now that her initial quiet demeanor was nothing more than a defensive facade designed to mislead unfamiliar faces. Perhaps that subdued act had also been a performance staged for Theresa's benefit, but now that the illusion was shattered, the woman had entirely discarded her inhibitions.
Jeanne watched her closely as W casually pulled out a small combat blade and began eyeing the wyvern's thick hide, visibly contemplating whether she could pry loose a single scale to take home as a souvenir. Attempting a minor theft right in front of the beast's actual master was a level of audacity few characters on Terra possessed!
Jeanne merely glanced at the borderline unhinged mercenary, making no physical move to intercept her weapon. Instead, she let out a weary sigh and offered a blunt piece of advice:
"Just so we are clear, I won't lift a finger to stop whatever stunt you are planning to pull. But if your prodding actually manages to enrage this beast, you will have to accept the grim consequences all on your own!"
W froze, looking at the sharp blade in her hand and then at the massive reptile. Meeting Jeanne's steady gaze, she let out a nervous chuckle and promptly tucked her weapon back into her gear, instantly adopting a sweet, harmless expression as if the previous troublemaker hadn't been her at all.
What a ridiculous notion! She was undoubtedly eccentric, but she certainly wasn't suicidal. How could she dare mess with a primordial wyvern without a guarantee of Jeanne's protection? She would almost certainly end up as the creature's next heavy evening meal!
She had zero intention of forfeiting her life when the official assignment was already concluded. If she perished in such an absurd manner, the rest of her mercenary crew would undoubtedly burst into uncontrollable laughter during her funeral procession.
"My goodness... you left everyone with the impression of being a quiet, scholarly girl just a short while ago," Jeanne murmured, shaking her head at the perfectly docile mercenary sitting nearby. "Yet in a matter of days, you have entirely dismantled and reconstructed the collective perception of your character!"
Jeanne considered it a true rarity to witness the woman adopting such an orderly posture. After all, forcing a mercenary who regularly hurled vulgar Sarkaz curses at the slightest provocation to behave with a modicum of grace was a monumental task, and the number of individuals capable of actually keeping her on a leash was exceptionally small.
The only reason Jeanne had partnered with W for this specific sweep was due to a direct request from Theresa and the command staff. When Jeanne had arrived at the departure deck to meet her assignment partner, the mercenary was already fully geared up, practically vibrating with anticipation as she waited to climb aboard the wyvern.
"Jeanne, can you share the secret of how you manage to domesticate these magnificent beasts?" W asked, leaning forward with intense curiosity. "And does your homeland handle the trade or sale of young hatchlings or unhatched eggs? Would you be interested in selling a few specimens to me?"
Jeanne was well aware of the woman's profound fascination with her mounts. In truth, virtually every member of Babel harbored an extraordinary interest in the wyverns, simply because the creatures were incredibly majestic and exceptionally formidable in a brawl.
But hearing such a blunt, direct solicitation regarding her personal forces left Jeanne momentarily uncertain. Should she chalk it up to W simply blurting out whatever random thought crossed her mind, or did the mercenary genuinely possess zero fear of causing offense?
After all, the wyverns represented the core of Jeanne's personal tactical advantage. Delivering a clumsy, head-on query about acquiring them could easily lead anyone else to suspect the solicitor harbored some deeply malicious ulterior motives.
"I strongly suggest you dismiss that notion entirely," Jeanne replied with a casual wave of her hand. "Setting aside the fact that you don't possess anywhere near the financial capital required to raise a juvenile drake to maturity, these creatures fundamentally refuse to acknowledge anyone else's authority. If you tried to handle one, you would simply be devoured!"
Jeanne spoke without a trace of irritation. She harbored zero anxiety about anyone attempting to replicate her methods of beast-mastery, primarily because her unique bond with the creatures was something that could not be studied or copied. Even if an outside faction somehow managed to keep a wyvern alive, her absolute dominion over dragonkind meant any fully grown beast would ultimately yield to her will anyway, merely expanding her own combat potential.
Hearing the firm rejection, W finally settled down, though a profound look of disappointment pooled in her eyes. The realization that she couldn't possess such magnificent creatures left her slumping against the saddle structure.
An outside observer might have assumed Jeanne had severely mistreated her, but the Saintess had already grown entirely accustomed to the mercenary's volatile mood swings. It was far from the first time she had witnessed the woman shift from manic glee to deep sorrow in the span of a minute.
Sure enough, the melancholy didn't last. A short while later, W was already rummaging through her gear bags, happily humming a strange, erratic melody under her breath—a tune Jeanne had never encountered before in her travels.
Throughout the journey, Jeanne received a thorough demonstration of just how utterly unvarnished this Sarkaz mercenary truly was. If they crossed paths with any unsavory characters along the barrens, the woman didn't hesitate for a single second to unleash a torrent of colorful curses.
Jeanne watched from above as W actively mocked the hostile forces scattered across the terrain below, occasionally dropping a handful of calibrated explosive devices onto unsuspecting bandit camps who attempted to establish a blockade, cheerfully wishing them a swift family reunion in the afterlife.
Granted, Jeanne possessed an equal disdain for lawless highwaymen who preyed on the vulnerable, so she occasionally permitted her mount to deliver a few massive bursts of burning dragon breath toward the targets to conclude the skirmishes quickly.
By the time the wyvern finally touched down at Babel's main landing pad, W looked entirely refreshed, having thoroughly purged her stress through excessive demolitions. She leaped from the saddle in a single fluid motion and vanished into the structure with astonishing speed. The sheer velocity of her departure left Jeanne blinking in surprise, wondering if the mercenary had suddenly remembered an urgent personal errand.
However, Jeanne quickly pushed the thoughts of W's bizarre cognitive functions out of her mind. Attempting to follow the mercenary's train of thought was an exercise in futility, and she had far more pressing matters to attend to within the command sector.
"Jeanne—!"
A sharp cry echoed from the main corridor. Jeanne looked up just in time to see a tiny figure hurtling toward her position like a high-powered artillery shell. The sheer momentum behind the charge made it look less like a welcoming embrace and more like a targeted assassination attempt.
Yet, facing this miniature projectile, Jeanne didn't display a hint of panic. She simply planted her boots, extended her arms, and smoothly caught the charging child, absorbing the impact with practiced ease.
Fafnir was absolutely thrilled the moment she collided with Jeanne's chest! The young dragon had never been separated from her guardian for this long a duration, so welcoming her back brought an immense wave of pure joy to her heart.
Feeling the small tail thumping rhythmically against her forearm, Jeanne could physically measure the depth of the child's absolute delight. Smiling softly, she offered a few reassuring pats to Fafnir's back and carried her deeper into the heart of the landship.
"So... your sweep only uncovered a few isolated mercenary cells stirring up trouble along the perimeter, but you found absolutely zero traces of Theresis's core military divisions deploying?"
As they walked through the central pavilion, Theresa and the Doctor walked alongside Jeanne, absorbing the detailed mission report. Hearing the summary, Theresa's elegant brow furrowed into a tight, anxious line.
While the total absence of Theresis's main standing army might have initially seemed like a positive development, the absolute lack of movement from the Regent's forces felt profoundly unnatural.
Both Theresa and the Doctor harbored deep anxieties regarding the anomaly. Her brother's current silence was far too absolute, forcing the leader of Babel to elevate her threat awareness to the highest tier.
The Doctor remained entirely silent, her visor reflecting the low light of the corridor as she pondered the tactical vacuum. The oppressive, heavy atmosphere instantly spread through the group, leaving even the usually confident Jeanne uncertain of how to break the tension. When they crossed paths with Kal'tsit and Amiya a few paces later, the ancient lynx and the young cautus merely joined the procession into a nearby meeting room.
"Would you all please stop acting as though the sky is about to collapse? At the very least, offer a bit of positive energy!" Noting the severe expressions dominating the room, the Doctor finally broke the silence, her tone deliberately light and conversational.
"Does this absolute silence not explicitly demonstrate that our expanding military assets have finally forced them to proceed with extreme caution? There is no need to carry such rigid expressions! Come on, let's see a smile! smile!"
The strategist actively worked to dissolve the stagnant atmosphere, and looking at the commander's dramatic gestures, the gathered leaders couldn't help but let out a soft, collective chuckle.
In reality, the strategic landscape wasn't entirely hopeless. The Regent's sudden hesitation simply proved that Babel had finally accumulated enough raw power to make Theresis hesitate before initiating a full-scale campaign.
Click!
Just as the tension dissolved and genuine smiles returned to their faces, the sharp, crisp snap of a camera shutter sliced through the quiet corridor. The group froze, their eyes instantly darting toward the source of the noise—a completely obscure, recessed corner near the support pillars.