When Jeanne next set eyes upon the Doctor, the strategist was being wheeled out by a stone-faced Kal'tsit, appearing entirely deeply under, still fully caught in the lingering grip of unconsciousness.
Jeanne couldn't help but harbor a sliver of anxiety regarding the invalid's current state. If she remained unresponsive like this, how was she supposed to handle her on the road? Before they ever reached the borders of Ursus, the woman would require basic sustenance; a human being couldn't survive weeks without a single drop of water, or she would surely perish.
Unless Jeanne chose to summon Fafnir's massive true form to fly directly to Ursus, navigating the rugged terrain back to the empire and reaching the hidden facility in Chernobog would require a window of at least two weeks. How could an invalid endure such a grueling journey without slipping away?
Had they remained in the fortress under the care of a trained physician, Jeanne felt it might be feasible, but enduring the rattling transit across the wilderness was a different matter. She was highly tempted to speak with Kal'tsit again and suggest the ancient Lynx undertake the journey herself.
"There is no need for such concern. Theresa left a hidden safeguard when she wove the arts," Kal'tsit noted, noticing Jeanne's deep hesitation. "Her memories are fractured right now, but they have not vanished instantly. Instead, they will systematically recede from her consciousness over a window of approximately forty-five days before the erasure is complete."
The physician offered the clarification to soothe the maiden's anxiety, explaining that the Doctor's current state was simply a consequence of the heavy sedatives administered during the procedure, rather than a permanent coma.
"The Doctor is projected to stir within the next two hours. Once she awakens, simply provide her with some fresh water, and she will be fully capable of maintaining a regular daily routine. As for the remaining logistical details... I must ask you to invest a significant amount of your own focus."
Kal'tsit delivered the final words with considerable gravity, handing Jeanne a substantial collection of required pharmaceuticals. Tucked among the medicine was a dense, handwritten journal stretching over a dozen pages, packed entirely with specific observations and instructions authored by the physician herself.
Jeanne had a strong feeling that had time permitted, Kal'tsit would have happily compiled a massive, multi-volume instruction manual titled The Care and Maintenance of the Doctor for her to flip through whenever a crisis arose.
The display left Jeanne with the distinct impression of an anxious parent watching a vulnerable child depart the hearth, double-checking every single piece of luggage yet remaining convinced that some vital safeguard had been omitted.
Honestly, Dr. Kal'tsit, it would be far simpler if you just escorted her to the facility yourself! To harbor this much anxiety yet refuse to travel... what on earth is keeping you anchored here? Jeanne mused silently.
"Are there further inquiries?"
Observing Jeanne standing in complete silence, Kal'tsit wondered if she had overlooked some vital detail in her directives. Reviewing her mental checklist and finding no omissions, she addressed the silver-haired maiden directly.
"No, there is nothing amiss; I was merely reviewing a few passing thoughts," Jeanne replied quickly, her focus snapping back to the corridor. "We are about to embark on our journey. Are you truly choosing to forgo a proper farewell? By the time your paths cross again, a window of several years will have undoubtedly passed."
Caught in her internal reflections, Jeanne had been startled by the question, quickly shaking her head to explain herself to Kal'tsit, looking very much like a student caught daydreaming by a strict headmaster.
Hearing the suggestion of a farewell, Kal'tsit shook her head in a flat refusal. Given that the patient was unlikely to awaken anytime soon, any words whispered would fall upon deaf ears, rendering a formal goodbye entirely devoid of utility.
Furthermore, Kal'tsit was well aware that her own disposition was far from gentle or sentimental. If she were forced to voice the kind of tender, emotional farewells that made one's skin crawl, she would vastly prefer to execute ten exceptionally complex surgical procedures instead.
"Doctor..."
Just as Jeanne prepared to guide the wheelchair toward the exit, the sound of light footsteps echoed down the hall. Theresa had journeyed to the ward, gently guiding Amiya by the hand. The small Cautus child gazed at the slumbering strategist, her voice thick with a sudden, weeping tremor.
"Why have you brought Amiya here?"
Kal'tsit's features tightened with immediate anxiety the moment her eyes fell upon the child. She quickly drew Theresa into a quiet corner of the corridor, her voice hushed but sharp with disapproval; she had fiercely desired to shield the young one from this separation.
"I firmly believe it is far better for Amiya to understand exactly where the Doctor is journeying," Theresa answered, her expression softening into a gentle, sad smile as she watched the child. "Even if the Doctor cannot comprehend her words right now, we ought to let them share a proper farewell. A massive window of time will pass before their eventual reunion, after all."
Watching Amiya bury her face against the Doctor's knees while murmuring a quiet promise, Kal'tsit could only let out a heavy sigh, relinquishing her protests.
Her original strategy had been to let the Doctor slip away in total secrecy, thereby preventing curious elements within the ranks from prying into the tactician's destination and inviting unforeseen security complications down the road.
This preference was heavily tied to Kal'tsit's personal aversion to emotional departures. Consequently, she had hidden the details of the Doctor's journey from every soul within the fortress save for the Monarch, fully intending to reveal the reality to Amiya only after the child had reached maturity.
"Sister Jeanne... I must entrust the Doctor to your care!"
Having completed her quiet farewell to her mentor, Amiya turned and delivered a deep, formal bow to Jeanne. The gesture carried immense weight, as if the young child were formally placing the strategist's fate into the maiden's hands for the long road ahead.
Jeanne accepted the responsibility with a gentle nod. Watching Kal'tsit guide the weeping Amiya back toward the inner residential wings, a sudden spark of curiosity regarding the small Cautus ignited within her mind.
"You all... seem to harbor an extraordinary level of investment in that young child," Jeanne noted quietly, turning to the Monarch. "Does she possess some unique trait? There must be a profound reason for the deep parental devotion you three lavish upon her."
To Jeanne's eyes, the girl appeared to be a perfectly ordinary Cautus. Throughout her entire stay in the capital, she had failed to discern any remarkable characteristic in this orphan from Rim Billiton that would justify such intense, collective focus from the highest authorities of the realm.
"Amiya..."
Theresa tracked the retreating silhouette of the small rabbit, a deeply complex emotion swirling within her gaze. She remained anchored to the spot, watching the child vanish around the far corner before letting out a quiet sigh.
"I must ask you to let me maintain a strict confidence regarding the precise details for the time being. In her current phase of life, she ought to be spared the burden of carrying such heavy truths."
The Monarch declined to elaborate on Amiya, though her secrecy wasn't driven by a fear of Jeanne exploiting the knowledge. Still, the underlying reality remained completely beyond Jeanne's capacity to guess.
"However, I can share a piece of information that is not strictly classified," Theresa offered as they began to walk. "Her biological classification is far more complex than a standard Cautus. Strictly speaking, Amiya is a Chimera."
The revelation left Jeanne thoroughly startled as the Monarch prepared to take her leave. "A Chimera?" she pondered, her mind completely blank as to what the term implied for a living soul on Terra.
Jeanne had historically found the racial classifications thoroughly baffling. She could never comprehend why an entity resembling a majestic lion was excluded from the Feline category to stand alone as an Aslan, while a massive tiger was routinely grouped under the standard Feline descriptor.
And now, a Chimera had entered the equation. What did that even signify? Amiya certainly didn't resemble some bizarre, legendary beast that lacked claws after a transformation.
"The hidden anomalies of this world truly are boundless," Jeanne reflected.
Still, Jeanne maintained a steady habit: whenever a mystery proved too convoluted for immediate comprehension, she simply cast it aside, confident that the underlying truths would surface naturally when the designated hour arrived. Besides, she suddenly realized she had left a vital task unfinished!
Watching Theresa turn to offer her final farewell, Jeanne's memory flashed. She had nearly departed the capital without delivering a critical piece of business.
"Wait a moment, Theresa! I possess an item that requires your personal custody!"
Jeanne began rummaging through her garments, prompting the Monarch to halt, her curiosity piqued as she watched the silver-haired maiden search her gear.
"I almost allowed this to slip my mind entirely," Jeanne murmured, her fingers brushing against a small slip of paper. "Had I departed without delivering this, that eccentric old gentleman would have undoubtedly deployed a dozen intermediaries just to establish contact with you..."
With a flourish, Jeanne extended the parchment toward the Sovereign. Inscribed upon the surface was an exceptionally intricate, multi-layered communication code—a specific frequency linked to encryption hardware that ordinary citizens could never hope to possess.
Realizing the profound identity of the individual seeking a direct line to her desk, Theresa's eyes widened with genuine astonishment as she stared at the paper.
"This is the private, highly restricted transmission frequency of the Pope of Laterano," Jeanne explained, unable to resist a light grumble regarding the elderly prelate who had delayed the delivery. "The old gentleman only presented this to me during our exchange yesterday evening, expressing a fierce desire to discuss certain matters with you. I have established communications with his office multiple times throughout this campaign, yet he never uttered a single syllable regarding this directive until the final hour, nearly causing me to forget the matter entirely!"