A few days later, within a deeply shadowed room, a small group gathered around a modest table. The pitch-black environment gave them the distinct aura of some secretive, sinister cabal assembling in the dark to orchestrate a grand plot.
"So... what sort of urgent intelligence required me to rush over here?"
A gentle voice broke the silence, laced with a heavy layer of exhaustion. As a stray beam of light caught her face, it became clear that her usual vibrant energy had entirely vanished, replaced by the hollow weariness of prolonged overwork.
"There are indeed a few developments," a cool, steady voice replied from across the table. Her detached tone carried a subtle hint of disapproval, quietly chiding the former for neglecting her health over the past few days. "Our scouts have finally managed to slip a few dispatches through the perimeter. I deemed the contents significant enough to warrant your immediate presence. And frankly, you desperately need a reprieve from your duties."
"On that note, why exactly are we holding a briefing in absolute darkness?" the first voice inquired, clearly exasperated by the bleak environment. "Has our treasury depleted to the point where we can no longer afford basic electricity? Did something break down?"
"The power grid is suffering from another malfunction," a thoroughly drained voice chimed in from the corner, her words dripping with profound resignation. She spoke with an absolute lack of vitality, sounding as though her entire reserve of energy had been completely siphoned away. "Who knows what sort of bizarre experiment Closure is tinkering with this time? Besides, this specific room offers the highest level of acoustic security. Whether there are active listening devices in the sector or not, caution serves us best. The lights should return shortly."
Crunch, crunch, crunch, crunch...
As the three continued their hushed exchange, a crisp, repetitive chewing sound echoed through the shadows. It sounded precisely as though a spectacularly ravenous rodent had managed to infiltrate the chamber and was currently enjoying a noisy, stolen feast in the dark.
"Don't you dare run away! We are trying to have a serious discussion, so sit still for a fraction of a second... Good grief, where did you even slide off to? Utter a single peep so I can at least find you in the dark!"
This was the most energetic voice in the room. She was currently scrambling beneath the furniture, attempting to apprehend the elusive 'rodent.' In an instant, the grand atmosphere of a shadowy conspiracy dissolved into the familiar chaos of a domestic family bickering during a blackout.
The sharp crunching never wavered. Judging by the shifting sound, the child was maintaining a fluid, rapid pace, utilizing her flawless night vision to effortlessly evade her pursuer in the dark.
Right at that moment, brilliant light flooded the chamber. It appeared that after a prolonged, relentless struggle with the wiring, Closure had finally managed to restore the electrical systems.
With the darkness banished, the occupants of the room were finally revealed. There was the thoroughly exhausted Theresa, a tight-faced Kal'tsit standing with her arms crossed, and the Doctor, who was currently bound to a heavy chair by unknown hands, receiving a steady drip of some mysterious medical fluid.
"Let's see you escape now! How on earth did you manage to chew a common piece of bread and make it sound like hard timber? Is my understanding of texture flawed, or is there something genuinely bizarre about your teeth?"
Beneath the main table, Jeanne—now fully aided by the overhead lights—finally managed to scoop up the rogue element. By the time she secured her, Fafnir had cleanly swallowed the final morsel of bread. Jeanne couldn't help but feel that her frantic pursuit over the past few minutes had been entirely in vain!
The girl hadn't even left a single crumb behind! Instead, the young dragon had simply huddled under the framework like a tiny mouse, methodically devouring her prize until it was completely gone.
The onlookers watched the thoroughly defeated Saintess, entirely unsure of how to intervene. After all, this fell strictly under the banner of maternal discipline; it was far better to let her manage her own household without outside interference.
"So, what exactly is the situation?" Jeanne inquired, brushing herself off. Deciding to ignore the young dragon's muffled protests, she gently pinched Fafnir's chubby cheeks while turning her focus back to the primary matter at hand.
Hearing her question, Kal'tsit took a deep, measured breath. Her expression grew remarkably severe—at least from Jeanne's perspective, though with Kal'tsit, it was always incredibly difficult to gauge the exact depth of her severity.
"We have indeed obtained actionable intelligence regarding Theresis," Kal'tsit began, her voice low. "According to the reports smuggled from the periphery of the capital, he has assembled a massive combat formation and dispatched them directly toward this city."
Kal'tsit hesitated briefly, a flicker of doubt passing through her eyes. To her, this intelligence felt entirely too convenient. Why had the blockaded scouts suddenly found a fluid window to transmit such a critical dispatch?
Previously, the informants embedded deep within the capital couldn't harvest a single scrap of data, yet the moment the frontline shifted, the outer agents miraculously stumbled upon a massive military movement. This glaring discrepancy forced Kal'tsit to maintain an exceptionally high level of vigilance.
Yet, after cross-referencing the data through multiple vectors, she confirmed the troop movements were entirely real. This reality only heightened her suspicion that the Regent's recent behavior was deeply anomalous.
"The enemy intends to reclaim the platform?" Jeanne asked, her brow furrowing. "But why launch an offensive now? Isn't their timing spectacularly late?"
She truly couldn't comprehend Theresis's logic. What could he possibly hope to achieve by sending an army at this stage?
Had he launched a rapid counter-strike during the initial days of Theresa's arrival, he might have caught the command structure unprepared and even captured the Monarch alive. But now, Babel had securely established its frontlines here. What was the purpose of throwing men into the fray at this hour?
"There is another matter that I believe requires your personal attention, Jeanne," Kal'tsit remarked, her gaze shifting abruptly. Her sharp eyes locked onto the Saintess, who was currently locked in a quiet struggle with Fafnir over a secondary piece of bread.
Jeanne had felt that allowing Fafnir to continue snacking during such a solemn briefing was highly inappropriate, so she had been trying to confiscate the remaining crust. Caught off guard by Kal'tsit's sudden address, her focus wavered for a fraction of a second, allowing the young dragon to triumphantly pull the bread away.
Jeanne quickly dismissed the small loss. If Kal'tsit was addressing her with such an earnest countenance, it implied the issue directly concerned her or someone within her immediate circle—something that demanded her absolute focus.
"Our operatives have spotted emissaries from Victoria quietly slipping in and out of the capital. While covert diplomacy between the Regent and the Victorian nobility has been ongoing for a considerable duration, their communications have become remarkably frequent over the past few weeks."
Kal'tsit paused there. At first glance, such geopolitical maneuvering appeared to have zero connection to Jeanne. She possessed no emotional ties or personal history with the Victorian crown; she was entirely detached from their affairs.
Even if Jeanne harbored an ancient desire to settle scores for the historical injustice of her execution, she could hardly hold the modern nobility of Victoria responsible for an act committed by an entirely different world. If she truly wanted to direct that ancient grievance toward humanity, the Doctor sitting across from her was a far more logical target.
But... Talulah shared a direct blood connection with the Victorian nobility! Was it possible those distant lords were preparing to make a move against the young Draco? The likelihood of a direct intervention felt incredibly slim, nearly impossible given the current layout of the continent.
"You are well aware that the Draco bloodline carried by your companion is exceptionally unique," Kal'tsit clarified, offering a quiet warning. "While the probability of immediate complications remains low, it would serve you well to maintain a cautious eye on Victorian movements. That realm is currently fractured by internal strife, and I find myself entirely unsurprised by whatever madness emerges from their borders."
With that warning delivered, the group shifted their undivided attention to the impending clash. Under the watchful eyes of Jeanne and Fafnir, the three leaders methodically reached a definitive consensus: they must avoid a prolonged siege at all costs!
If they allowed the conflict to breach the city limits, it would not only inflict horrific casualties upon the civilian populace, but the heavy artillery would also likely reduce the vital industrial factories to rubble, completely erasing the spectacular progress Theresa had achieved over the past few days.
Kal'tsit selected a barren stretch of land a reasonable distance from the municipal borders to serve as the primary field of engagement. This clash would essentially function as the decisive showdown between the two factions, and securing a flawless victory here would yield massive strategic dividends.
Most importantly, if they could shatter the incoming loyalist legions with undeniable dominance, those fickle, unaligned factions currently watching from the sidelines would undoubtedly throw their full weight behind Theresa. Such a political shift would be monumentally helpful for their subsequent march on the capital.
Of course, everything hinged entirely on a clean victory. The consistent pattern of those political fencesitters was to strictly align themselves with whoever demonstrated superior strength—and the sheer number of these opportunistic warlords across Kazdel was staggering.
Theresa couldn't afford to continuously spend the lives of her loyal vanguard to hold the line; at some point, she needed to absorb these unaligned factions and delegate the less critical tasks to their ranks.
The discussion eventually wound down, and the three leaders slowly shifted their gazes toward the corner. Fafnir had already finished her bread and was currently gnawing on a spectacular piece of hard tack, looking thoroughly content.
Just how much gold would it take to convince this young dragon to step onto the battlefield at the crucial moment, unleash her terrifying presence upon the enemy, and force those wavering fencesitters to completely surrender to the true Monarch?