The entire group, minus the Doctor, was instantly drawn to the shutter click emerging from the alcove. Kal'tsit didn't even glance down at young Amiya and the still rambling Doctor beside her before taking a single, massive stride forward, plunging her hand into the shadows and dragging the hiding culprit out by the collar.
W stood exposed, clutching a remarkably weathered camera. To be fair, a functional piece of optical equipment was considered a true luxury within Kazdel's borders, primarily because the delicate lenses shattered so easily, and few mercenaries were willing to carry an object that served zero purpose other than recording still images.
Facing the heavy glares of the entire high command, the mercenary could only offer a strained chuckle. In reality, her entire motivation had simply been to secure a solitary portrait of Theresa.
Opportunities to capture a clear image of the royal leader without a massive crowd of advisers surrounding her were exceptionally rare, so she had tried to seize the quiet moment.
She simply hadn't anticipated the mechanical shutter would emit such a thunderous crack! The instant the mirror snapped down, she knew her stealth attempt had utterly failed, and her covert photography operation was officially ruined.
"Haha... if I told you all I merely wanted to secure a group photograph of our triumphant return, would anyone actually believe me?" W muttered, cold sweat pooling along her brow under the weight of their scrutiny as she raised the device like a shield.
Theresa merely offered a warm, forgiving smile. She reached out, took the camera from W's hands to inspect her captured likeness on the viewplate, and smoothly handed it back. Far from being upset, the monarch even requested the mercenary help her take a proper, standalone portrait before they adjourned.
Jeanne watched the mercenary skip away in pure, unbridled glee after finishing the impromptu photoshoot. She couldn't shake the feeling that the woman's cognitive wiring was deeply unconventional, leading her to privately wonder if spending too much time cooperating with such an eccentric character would eventually corrupt her own sanity.
"You possess an extraordinary amount of patience for these types of antics," Kal'tsit remarked dryly, turning her gaze from the departing mercenary back to Theresa. "If word of this leniency spreads through the barracks, every single vanguard will start carrying optical devices into the command briefing rooms, begging you for casual portraits."
While the ancient physician didn't truly believe her disciplined personnel would sink to such an chaotic state, the absolute lack of order displayed by the Sarkaz wildcard still registered as a significant annoyance.
"It isn't a particularly grave transgression, is it?" Theresa replied, her tone entirely relaxed. "Besides, I get the distinct impression that if W didn't secure her photograph today, she would simply look for every possible excuse to shadow my steps until she managed to capture one anyway."
The monarch dismissed the matter without a second thought. Though Kal'tsit remained profoundly dissatisfied with the breach of protocol, she merely shook her head and dropped the subject, recognizing the futility of arguing against Theresa's endless tolerance.
Jeanne, however, remained lost in thought as she recalled W's dramatic exit. Did that volatile woman truly orchestrate that entire bizarre sequence simply to secure a portrait of Theresa? She hadn't realized the mercenary harbored such an intense, reverent devotion toward the crown. They had barely interacted more than a handful of times, hadn't they?
"What exactly is occupying your thoughts?"
The Doctor's voice cut through her musings. The strategist had been rambling aloud to the group for several minutes without receiving a single word of feedback from the Saintess, prompting her to lean closer and investigate the distraction.
Even now, the commander hadn't abandoned her long-term campaign to win over Fafnir through excessive bribery. She remained firmly convinced that continuous offerings of premium snacks would eventually dissolve the young dragon's fierce guard, allowing her to pet that thick tail without receiving a severe thrashing in return.
Fafnir remained entirely oblivious to the dark, scheming thoughts brewing beneath the Doctor's visor. She was thoroughly occupied devouring the treats the strategist kept handing her, her expression radiating absolute bliss as she tuned out the strategic discourse completely.
"Oh, it's nothing. Did you say something just now?" Jeanne asked, blinking back to reality.
Due to the brief photographic distraction, the rest of the council had entirely withdrawn their attention from the Doctor, leaving the commander speaking to an empty room.
Her solitary audience member was the miniature glutton currently munching on dried rations. The young dragon was infinitely more invested in the flavor profile of her treats than any high-level strategic intelligence, making the supreme commander look like a lonely adult forced to play with a toddler because everyone else was ignoring her.
Realizing Jeanne hadn't absorbed a single word of her grand monologue, the Doctor froze. A comical look of deep betrayal washed over her frame, and she slumped against the structural support, muttering a stream of pathetic grievances under her breath.
"Are my tactical summaries truly that devoid of flavor? I expended an immense amount of cognitive energy gathering this perimeter data, yet not a single soul is participating in the debrief. What did I do to deserve such neglect..."
"Stop, stop right there. Let's return to the critical updates before the complaining escalates," Jeanne interrupted hastily, a cold sweat breaking out on her forehead as she held up a hand to halt the performance.
Jeanne was painfully aware of how agonizing the strategist's verbal loops could become once she settled into a dramatic mood. When the Doctor truly unleashed her rambling commentary, even Kal'tsit's legendary patience would entirely evaporate, occasionally triggering a violent impulse to physically silence her colleague.
"Fine," the Doctor muttered, instantly abandoning her theatrical moping.
Jeanne watched the swift transition, marveling at the sheer adaptability of the commander's daily habits. How did someone cultivate a verbal delivery that could pivot from pathetic to profoundly serious in the span of a breath?
"As I was saying, recent intelligence indicates Theresis's standing army is systematically consolidating their defensive lines," the Doctor explained, her tone dropping into a low, grave register. The sudden shift was so absolute it sent a phantom shiver down Jeanne's spine, hinting at a massive, looming crisis. "When you confirmed your wyverns crossed over those territorial bastions without triggering a single anti-air response, my suspicions were officially confirmed. Something is deeply wrong."
Huh? Didn't you just told us to stop worrying about it and smile? Jeanne thought to herself. But when Jeanne analyzed the observation, the reality of their recent sweep truly became alarming. Far from encountering fierce resistance, her forces had penetrated deep into enemy airspace with zero detection. It felt as though the Regent had entirely abandoned the outlying infrastructure.
The field data supported the grim theory. While numerous mobile cities technically remained under the Regent's administration, Jeanne's reconnaissance revealed that their internal garrisons had been stripped to the bone, leaving the urban defenses as fragile as a sheet of parchment.
"Where do you assume he has redeployed his entire military force?" Jeanne asked, her brow furrowing. "He wouldn't be foolish enough to gather his entire army into a single sector to challenge our main force in a head-on collision, would he? Even if he concentrates his divisions, a massive gathering of infantry represents nothing more than a casual target for Fafnir's flames."
Jeanne refused to believe Theresis had lost his strategic faculties enough to gamble his entire campaign on a single roll of the dice. A commander of his caliber would easily deduce that the best way to counter a force backed by a true dragon was to wage a highly decentralized, multi-front campaign.
After all, Jeanne was the sole individual capable of directing the wyverns, and Fafnir was a single entity. No matter how immense their destructive power, they couldn't materialize across four or five separate war zones simultaneously to rescue isolated elements.
Furthermore, if the opposing armies became tightly entangled in close-quarters combat, Jeanne would be forced to exercise extreme caution with her draconic assets, since a single misdirected burst of dragon fire could easily inflict catastrophic friendly casualties on their own lines.
"The absolute lack of data is precisely why I am anxious," the Doctor admitted, rubbing her temples to ease a growing headache. "The Regent's current passivity completely contradicts everything we know about his operational doctrine! No matter how I evaluate the variables, I cannot decipher his true objective."
The strategist paced the floor, her frustration palpable. Given Babel's current status, Theresis should have been deploying harassment squads to disrupt the reconstruction of the landship. Splitting their focus and draining their material reserves during a massive maintenance cycle would be the textbook tactical response.
"So, what is the plan?" Jeanne asked, eyeing the commander closely. She could tell the Doctor was holding back a specific proposal. "Do we continue focusing all our assets on restoring the landship while maintaining this tense stalemate, or are you planning an aggressive maneuver to force his hand and reveal his underlying strategy?"
Jeanne voiced her deduction cleanly, hoping to see if she had accurately anticipated the commander's next move. If her hypothesis proved correct, it would serve as definitive proof that her own tactical intellect was steadily evolving. The Saintess secretly harbored a deep-seated desire to prove she wasn't the least perceptive member of the high command.
"We strike first, of course!" the Doctor declared, clapping her hands together with immense excitement. The sheer anticipation of the upcoming campaign seemed to completely revitalize her energy. "Since that man is content to weave his schemes in the dark, we will simply execute a direct offensive to drag him into the light! Forcing a confrontation now is infinitely safer than allowing him to complete his preparations and dictate the terms of our eventual clash!"