With both guardians standing as witnesses, Theresa officially bestowed the title of Duchess of Kazdel upon Fafnir. This appointment undoubtedly marked the birth of the youngest—and arguably the most physically formidable—Duchess in the long history of the realm.
However, just as the Monarch had cautioned, the current political landscape was far too volatile to broadcast such a complex aristocratic appointment to the world. For the foreseeable future, the decree would remain safely tucked away from the public eye.
Only a select few, including Theresa and Kal'tsit, gathered to witness the brief ceremony. Seeing Fafnir's radiant, bubbling joy brought a collective smile to the room, even if the dragon child's happiness was driven entirely by the massive chest of pure gold presented as her introductory noble gift.
Neither Jeanne nor Fafnir harbored any deep investment in a peerage that lacked a physical territory. To them, the high honor was simply not something that required their lingering focus.
As for the absence of a designated fiefdom to accompany the title, both visitors viewed it as a perfectly logical arrangement. They had zero intention of anchoring themselves to this soil for a long duration, rendering a parcel of land entirely useless to their needs.
Furthermore, carving out a territory for outsiders was no trivial matter. Given that Jeanne and Fafnir were transparently not of Sarkaz blood, granting them physical borders would only invite unnecessary political friction and place them in a highly precarious position among the local tribes.
At this stage, the practical utility of the title was quite modest. Beyond adding another impressive line to their credentials whenever they needed to announce their presence on a field of conflict, its primary benefit lay in streamlining negotiations with the local Sarkaz mercenaries.
A recognized title from the Kazdel crown carried massive weight among the wandering blades, inspiring far greater confidence than a contract offered by strangers of mysterious origin.
Still, even that advantage offered minimal practical leverage for Jeanne's current objectives. The peerage functioned almost exactly as Theresa had described: a symbolic token of profound appreciation crafted to honor their immense contributions to the capital.
Following the ceremony, Jeanne settled right back into her routine of dragon-rearing. When she wasn't supervising Fafnir, she occupied her idle hours weaving fresh, high-grade strands of the Holy Shroud. With the severe lack of local entertainment, she felt that if she remained stationary any longer, she might actually start sprouting mushrooms.
Over the next few weeks, Kazdel endured a wave of subtle provocations. Several foreign factions, harborers of ill intent, sent scouts to test the boundaries of the fragile nation, executing covert maneuvers to destabilize the crown. Yet every single one of these subterranean schemes was systematically dismantled by the Doctor.
It was during this period that Jeanne truly realized the strategist's genius wasn't restricted to the mud of a battlefield. Her capacity to navigate the delicate political currents between massive global empires was nothing short of extraordinary; she even managed to extract significant diplomatic leverage from the incidents.
Jeanne personally watched the hooded tactician capture a squadron of foreign operatives red-handed, only to hold them in custody until their respective backers quietly paid an astronomical ransom in vital survival resources just to secure their release.
Driven by the Doctor's relentless logistics crusade, Theresa and her inner circle finally succeeded in transforming the fractured capital into something resembling a cohesive state. At the very least, the outward infrastructure had achieved a functional, stable appearance.
With the fundamental framework securely established, it became obvious that they were preparing to formally rebuild the war-torn nation, even if the road ahead promised to be exceptionally grueling.
The task was further complicated by the reality that Theresis had retreated with a massive portion of the population. For a considerable duration, Theresa would remain heavily anchored to the domestic rebuilding effort, meaning the pursuit of her missing brother would have to be indefinitely shelved.
As the weeks bled into the second month, Jeanne's prior anxieties were fully realized. Despite the Doctor attempting to pace herself slightly better than before, her continuous habit of overworking eventually shattered her fragile health. The borrowed strength simply evaporated.
When the companions entered the medical ward, they found the strategist in a state so critical that even the restorative warmth of the Holy Shroud could no longer arrest the decay. Her physical frame had reached its limit; she desperately required immediate transport to the hibernation chamber, where the specialized machinery could begin rebuilding her ruined anatomy.
Theresa gazed down at her longtime comrade, her expression heavy with profound sorrow. Though the outside world frequently vilified the grand tactician with terrifying rumors, the Monarch knew this woman had offered up everything for Kazdel, including her very life force.
Now, the brilliant companion who had marched beside her through years of brutal struggle had finally reached the absolute end of her endurance. To watch her collapse at the exact dawn of the nation's rebirth was an incredibly painful reality to endure.
"Why the somber faces?" the Doctor asked, her voice cracking in a semi-playful rasp as she broke the oppressive silence. "It isn't as though I am stepping across the threshold of the underworld. I am merely departing for a prolonged medical treatment. We are simply going to be separated for a brief window, so there is zero utility in staging a funeral watch right now."
Thanks to the lingering resonance of the crimson tunic, she still possessed enough vital energy to voice a few jests, though any further engagement with state paperwork was entirely out of the question.
For the Doctor, surviving to view this day was already a magnificent blessing from the heavens. The reality that she wasn't facing immediate expiration, but rather a clean slate stripped of her agonizing memories, was a trade she gladly accepted.
"However, once the mechanism releases me down the road, I shall have to rely heavily on your guidance," the Doctor added softly, her gaze drifting toward the ceiling. "Awakening with a hollow mind into a completely unfamiliar landscape will undoubtedly spark a deep panic. Yet, tracing the thought... I find myself harboring a strange curiosity regarding that blank horizon."
For a mind burdened by her history, losing her memories wasn't a terrible fate. The harrowing trials she had navigated over the years, alongside the deep grief she carried in isolation, were far from pleasant recollections.
Gaining an existence entirely unburdened by those dark chapters represented a future worth anticipating. In truth, she felt a quiet impatience to begin the slumber.
"Rest assured, a staggering mountain of administrative duties will be waiting at your desk the moment you regain your health," Theresa countered, matching her companion's lighter tone with a gentle smile. "When that day arrives, you will find it completely impossible to secure a medical leave from me."
The light exchange dissolved the heavy atmosphere, allowing the surrounding companions to breathe a bit easier as the tone in the room softened.
Jeanne remained anchored to the bedside, chatting quietly with the patient until Kal'tsit signaled her to step out into the corridor. The ancient physician needed to deliver precise instructions regarding the transport logistics.
Remarkably, the individual designated to escort the invalid to the hidden facility in Chernobog wasn't Kal'tsit—the one who understood the machinery best—but rather Jeanne, who could easily manage the patient as part of her return journey to Ursus.
The arrangement was born of absolute necessity. Kal'tsit possessed zero free hours to leave Kazdel; her immediate priority was to remain directly at Theresa's side to guarantee the Sovereign's personal safety, especially while the capital's defense grid remained heavily compromised.
With her schedule utterly consumed by domestic security, the physician lacked the luxury of embarking on a long journey to the frozen north. Thus, the critical assignment was entrusted to Jeanne.
Jeanne had accepted the task without a moment's hesitation. The journey presented very little difficulty for her, and she had already mastered the operational manual required to program the sophisticated life-support pod.
Standing in the quiet corridor, Kal'tsit meticulously went over the technical safeguards to ensure the transport proceeded without a single variable. Any delay in securing the Doctor's placement within the machine would prove fatal.
Watching the ancient Lynx repeat the medical directives with unusual fussiness, Jeanne sensed that the physician fiercely desired to manage the journey herself. Regrettably, the chaotic landscape of Kazdel simply wouldn't permit her to travel across the border into Great Ursus.
"Once you arrive at the designated facility, you simply need to lock down the primary terminal before clearing the area," Kal'tsit explained, her face a mask of absolute neutrality. "As for navigating the perimeter... while the sector should currently be in a semi-abandoned state, you will have to rely on your own discretion to bypass local patrols."
Though her voice remained perfectly even, the faint tension in her brow revealed that the impending departure was taking a significant emotional toll. Jeanne watched her closely, thoroughly fascinated by the strange, contradictory nature of their relationship.
To claim these two individuals harbored a deep, affectionate bond would be entirely inaccurate. Yet, to suggest they felt mutual indifference was equally false; they monitored each other's paths with a bizarre, unyielding intensity.
"Dr. Kal'tsit, what if Fafnir and I delay our departure for a brief window?" Jeanne suggested softly. "Once you personally escort the Doctor to the facility and secure her placement, you can return here, and I will begin my journey. Your direct handling of the machinery would be far safer than relying on my instructions, wouldn't it?"
Hearing the unexpected proposal, Kal'tsit froze, her analytical mind completely caught off guard by the suggestion.