Events unfolded exactly as Jeanne had anticipated. Kal'tsit was far from convinced by the Doctor's flimsy cover story, even if the strategist could suddenly stand on her own two feet and displayed a striking revival of physical strength.
Unable to fathom the underlying mechanics, the ancient Lynx eventually bypassed the master deceiver entirely, approaching Jeanne directly to extract the truth before deciding whether to let the patient resume her duties.
Though Kal'tsit harbored a deep, complicated friction with the tactician—even admitting to a certain level of personal distaste—she was acutely aware that the Doctor could not be permitted to expire in this dark corner of the land. The strategist was far too vital to lose.
Recognizing that attempting to interrogate the Doctor would only yield a labyrinth of half-truths, Kal'tsit placed her trust in Jeanne's transparency regarding the nature of the Holy Shroud.
"I must admit, I never envisioned a day where the legendary, omniscient Dr. Kal'tsit would find herself completely in the dark regarding a medical phenomenon."
Kal'tsit could easily visualize the smug, mocking tone the Doctor would have adopted had she been given the chance to gloat. The probability of Kal'tsit delivering a physical reprimand that would land the strategist right back in the infirmary was uncomfortably high.
Jeanne, catching the subtle undercurrents of a relationship far too complex for her own innocent sensibilities to fully untangle, offered Kal'tsit a look saturated with profound understanding.
The ancient physician, however, didn't particularly care for that knowing gaze. The sensation of being effortlessly read by the young maiden was foreign and slightly unwelcome to a woman who had spent centuries cloaked in deep mystery.
Yet, reflecting upon Jeanne's extraordinary, divine traits, Kal'tsit quickly dismissed her discomfort. The platinum-haired maiden was a living anomaly; nothing she did could truly surprise her anymore.
Once Jeanne provided a detailed breakdown of the garment's defensive and restorative energy, Kal'tsit accepted the reality of the situation, despite how alien the concept seemed to her scientific training.
"In your estimation, can the Doctor truly sustain this workload for three full months without inviting total organ failure?"
Kal'tsit remained deeply skeptical. The Doctor's psychological state was noticeably warped right now, and her primary anxiety was that the stubborn strategist would indulge in a reckless gamble, throwing her remaining life force onto the table just to clear her desk.
"I cannot offer a definitive guarantee," Jeanne replied honestly. "I have never applied the Shroud to a condition this severe. However, my instincts suggest that the structural decay has been safely arrested. It should be perfectly fine to let her direct operations as she desires."
Hearing that mystical reassurance, Kal'tsit allowed herself a quiet sigh of relief. She resolved to trust the young woman's extraordinary intuition once more, making a mental note to closely monitor the Doctor's vital signs from the shadows.
With the physician's reluctant endorsement, the Doctor returned to the very administrative post she had historically spent every waking hour attempting to escape. Yet, rather than plotting her usual elaborate schemes to shirk her duties, she unleashed a wave of raw efficiency that shattered all previous metrics.
At times, Jeanne felt the strategist was operating like an individual drafting her final testament. If she continued to incinerate her focus with such complete disregard for her own well-being, even the three-month window guaranteed by the tunic would evaporate long before its time.
Whenever Jeanne attempted to voice her concerns, the Doctor simply brushed the warnings aside with a wave of her hand, steering the conversation away from her health and diving right back into her paperwork.
Jeanne initially assumed the woman was merely driven by a profound sense of duty, until she crossed paths with Theresa idling near the residential corridor. It was a jarring sight, seeing the supreme ruler of Kazdel wandering about with absolutely nothing to do.
A significant window of time had passed since they last spoke; the Monarch had been utterly consumed by the chaotic restructuring of the capital, so short-staffed that she looked ready to cleave her own shadow in two just to gain an extra pair of hands.
Finding the sovereign casually materializing in her vicinity sparked Jeanne's intense curiosity. What on earth could possess the drive to drag this hyper-busy Monarch away from her command center? she wondered.
Through their quiet exchange, Jeanne finally learned of the impossible feats the Doctor had performed over the last fortnight. In less than two weeks, the strategist had systematically cleared an astronomical mountain of state affairs that defied Theresa's wildest calculations.
The Doctor had already meticulously mapped out the entire administrative framework for the next three months, laying down explicit directives for every sector. All Theresa and her ministers had to do was follow the steps precisely as written, with zero need to worry about unforeseen variables.
Jeanne was thoroughly stunned by the revelation. "Is this what this woman looks like when she operates at maximum capacity?" she marveled. To single-handedly dissolve a nation's logistical nightmare within days was a terrifying display of intellectual dominance.
The sheer value of that brainpower sparked a sudden, mischievous ambition within Jeanne's mind—she was genuinely tempted to kidnap the Doctor, haul her back to Reunion, and transform her into a permanent desk asset. Jeanne could simply stand beside her workstation every morning, delivering a single, motivational line:
"There's still lots of work that needs to be done, Doctor. You can't rest now!"
Then again, Jeanne quickly discarded the thought, realizing that such a grueling arrangement would amount to absolute tyranny over the poor patient. Still, once they eventually dragged the strategist out of her medical coffin down the road, perhaps they could negotiate a temporary consulting contract?
An individual who could outwork a dozen trained ministers was a rare breed on Terra; it would be a tragedy to let such a magnificent resource go to waste.
"So, the underlying motive for your visit is..."
Though Jeanne remained deeply impressed by the Doctor's feat, she still couldn't connect the dots to her own presence. Why would the heavily burdened Monarch journey all this way just to deliver a status report?
"I want to enlist your aid in counseling her," Theresa admitted, her expression softening into genuine worry. She had deliberated over the issue for days before turning to Jeanne. "If she persists at this frantic pace, she will shatter her spirit long before the month expires. Even if she desires to secure our foundation before her treatment, this methodology is entirely self-destructive."
"Ah, I take your meaning," Jeanne agreed instantly. Her own solution was delightfully simple: if her words failed to move the stubborn strategist, she would simply strip the crimson tunic off the woman's back and hand her over to the medical team by force.
"Doctor! Your designated assignments have reached total completion! You must retreat to your bed chambers immediately!"
Before she even crossed the threshold of the central office, a familiar, high-pitched voice echoed through the corridor. The desperate plea was so completely inverse to the historical dynamic that Jeanne paused, wondering if she had inadvertently stepped into an alternate reality.
The individual attempting to barricade the desk was none other than Amiya. Entering the room, Jeanne watched the small Cautus child desperately tugging at the Doctor's sleeve, utilizing her tiny physical strength to wrench a fountain pen away from the strategist's fingers.
The transformation was spectacular. Jeanne distinctly recalled the days when the Doctor required Amiya's constant surveillance and sharp reminders just to keep her focused on her ledger!
The iconic phrase, "There's still lots of work that needs to be done, Doctor. You can't rest now!" had historically been enough to make the strategist shudder. To see the young child completely reverse her position was mind-boggling.
"Has the world truly spun out of its orbit, or has my own youth left me entirely out of touch with the current era?" the nineteen-year-old maiden pondered, watching the fierce struggle unfold before her.
Deciding that diplomacy had reached its expiration date, Jeanne opted for a brilliantly direct methodology to terminate the Doctor's labor. Striding forward, she hoisted the master strategist clean out of her seat by the collar like a helpless hatchling, marching her right out of the command center.
"That will suffice, little Amiya. I shall take absolute custody of this patient from this moment forth!"
Amiya stood frozen, watching Jeanne carry the flailing, protesting Doctor down the hall. The blunt, uncompromising intervention triggered a sudden memory of Kal'tsit; had the ancient Lynx been present, she would have executed the exact same maneuver.
Regrettably, Kal'tsit possessed zero hours to police the Doctor's desk habits today. The physician was completely buried under a mountain of emergency surgeries and clinical restructuring, stating coldly that she lacked the luxury to babysit a patient who repeatedly spat upon her own survival metrics.
Under Jeanne's unyielding supervision, the Doctor was safely deposited onto her mattress. Though she harbored a fierce desire to stage an escape, her fragile physical power was completely laughable compared to the maiden's grip.
Even when she attempted to bide her time and wait for a lapse in security, Jeanne simply stationed Fafnir right beside the exit. Confronted by the watchful gaze of a dragon child, the brilliant tactician found absolutely zero avenues for evasion.
Observing the entire operation from the doorway, Theresa was thoroughly stunned by the sheer simplicity of Jeanne's approach. She had naturally assumed the Saintess would employ the gentle, nurturing words of an elder sister to soothe the Doctor's anxiety.
Had she known brute force was an option, either she or the elite operators could have settled the matter days ago! Given the Doctor's pathetic physical stats, Amiya was practically the solitary individual in the entire fortress who couldn't overpower her.
Before the door clicked shut, Jeanne leaned over the bed, utilizing her reinforced gauntlet to deliver a swift, perfectly measured tap to the Doctor's cranium. The precise strike sent the strategist straight into a deep, peaceful slumber, allowing Jeanne to walk out of the chamber with complete peace of mind.
The entire intervention was a masterpiece of absolute efficiency.