Jeanne guided the vehicle forward, charting a course toward Ursus with the Doctor in tow. Initially, she harbored a faint anxiety regarding whether the tactician's fragile physical state might take a sudden turn for the worse. However, after several days of continuous travel together, those lingering doubts completely vanished.
Aside from a remarkably lighthearted demeanor, there was nothing amiss with the mastermind's behavior. She didn't resemble a critical medical patient in the slightest, appearing far more like an ordinary civilian enjoying a leisurely sightseeing excursion through Ursus.
Jeanne couldn't fathom the precise mechanics behind this sudden vitality, though she strongly suspected Kal'tsit had administered another potent, specialized serum before their departure.
The Doctor's subsequent chatter effectively confirmed this hypothesis. The medicine Kal'tsit provided was designed to sustain her physical equilibrium for a limited duration, though the long-term toll of the substance was severe. Had she not been scheduled for immediate interment within the sarcophagus anyway, such a drastic measure would never have been authorized.
Jeanne noted that the strategist seemed to have discarded all her usual inhibitions. Given that the crushing weights of her duties had finally been lifted, coupled with the impending reality of her deep slumber, this sudden shift in character was entirely understandable.
Yet, watching the Doctor animatedly discussing various schemes with Fafnir, Jeanne couldn't help but wonder if she was letting her hair down just a fraction too much. Previously, this individual lacked the courage to even sit within arm's reach of the young dragon!
A traveler who once maintained a cautious, tiptoeing distance around Fafnir had now graduated to brazenly pilfering sustenance directly from her jaws. This couldn't be described as a mere shift in behavior; the tactician had undergone a complete, uninhibited transformation.
Under these unusual circumstances, Jeanne escorted her eccentric companion past the outer boundaries of Kazdel, and the Doctor only her shared a complex look on the final day of crossing the frontier, her gaze lingering on the retreating landscape as a whirlwind of unspoken thoughts swept through her mind.
She had poured her life's blood into that scarred earth for an immense stretch of time. Now that her mission was triumphantly concluded, leaving it behind for medical treatment inspired an unexpected pang of reluctance.
On another note, Jeanne perceived that as the months trickled past, the domestic state of Kazdel was showing tangible signs of steady improvement. At the very least, the swarms of opportunistic bandits who used to plague the thoroughfares had grown significantly scarcer.
Naturally, this sudden quietude might simply mean the regional factions were choosing to consolidate their forces within their respective strongholds, keeping a watchful eye on the capital's shifting tides before emerging to resume their trade when the timing favored them.
As their transit progressed, Jeanne noticed that the robust energy surrounding the Doctor was beginning to wane, reverting toward her familiar, fragile state.
Evidently, Kal'tsit's specialized serum carried a strict expiration, failing to guarantee that the mastermind would reach Chernobog bursting with vitality.
By the time the transport crossed into the sovereign territory of Ursus, the Doctor had retreated into her familiar, tight-lipped silence. However, her current reticence wasn't born of a sullen mood, but rather a severe lack of physical energy to sustain a conversation.
Even Fafnir, seated directly beside her, cast a curious glance at her companion. The young dragon seemed to wonder how the energetic individual who had been bargaining for apples just days prior could dwindle into such a listless state in so short an interval. Had some hidden biology malfunctioned?
Musing over the puzzle, Fafnir drew forth a fresh apple and extended it with a rare look of sympathy toward the deflated strategist, silently urging her to consume the snack to restore a fraction of her spirit.
Witnessing this unexpected gesture of generosity from the young dragon deeply moved the Doctor. To think this guarded creature was willing to partition her treasured hoard! Had her standing in the child's estimation truly ascended to such heights?
The Doctor accepted the offering and took a firm bite... yet her palate registered nothing. Her sensory faculties were beginning to experience periodic failures, leaving her unable to discern the true flavor of a crisp apple.
"My sincere thanks, Fafnir! This fruit is remarkably sweet. Once my health is fully restored down the road, I shall find an occasion to treat you to a magnificent feast, how does that sound?"
The mastermind reached out to lightly pat Fafnir's head, only for the young dragon to deftly dodge the gesture with a thoroughly disgruntled expression. Nevertheless, at the mention of a grand feast, the child's large eyes flashed with unmistakable brilliance; she had clearly logged this commitment deep within her memory.
Observing the reaction, the Doctor knew that even if she had uttered the promise casually, the young creature had taken it entirely to heart. She couldn't decide whether this development boded well or ill, leaving her with a rather tangled knot of emotions.
Still, considering she would emerge from her treatment stripped of her current recollections, she decided to simply saddle her future, amnesiac self with the obligation! The first order of business upon awakening would be to secure funds and provide Fafnir with an unforgettable dining experience.
"The travelers ahead, dismount the vehicle for immediate inspection."
Just as Jeanne was enjoying the amusing interactions in her rearview mirror, a thoroughly discourteous demand shattered the tranquility, as a militarized squadron abruptly barred their path.
Jeanne needed only a single glance to identify the nature of the obstruction. They were a common variety of local pest frequently encountered within the borders of Ursus: the Infected Patrols, clad in their distinct dark uniforms, notorious for plundering travelers under the guise of law enforcement.
To be frank, Jeanne harbored a profound distaste for dealing with such characters. These individuals didn't halt vehicles to root out genuine subversives; they simply wished to gauge how much material wealth could be extorted from their targets.
Yet, these black-clad parasites served as a clear indicator to Jeanne that she had officially returned to the soil of Ursus after a prolonged absence. In a structural sense, this constituted positive progress.
However, had her grand return to the empire been heralded by the familiar faces of her trusted companions rather than these local pests, her current mood would undoubtedly be far brighter.
At this moment, Jeanne felt nothing but a wave of irritation. While her personal martial prowess ensured these thugs posed zero genuine threat, navigating their crooked protocols was invariably an unpleasant endeavor.
"Why do you hesitate? Step out of the transport immediately! Are you harboring infected refugees within that cabin? Attempting to flee at this hour is entirely futile; emerge at once to face scrutiny!"
Observing the lack of immediate movement from the vehicle, the surrounding guards grew increasingly aggressive. They reasoned that the prolonged silence from the passengers clearly indicated a guilty conscience.
Jeanne let out a helpless sigh as she surveyed the gathering crowd. It was obvious these thugs were determined to sink their teeth into whatever spoils she possessed; it remained to be seen how far they intended to push their luck.
The moment Jeanne stepped down from the driver's seat, the underlying caution within the guards instantly dissolved. Seeing that the operator was merely a young, solitary maiden, they concluded the travelers possessed zero means to inflict harm upon their squadron.
It wasn't a case of groundless arrogance; given her slender frame, they believed snapping this girl's bones would be as effortless as sipping morning tea. Judging by her unadorned traveling attire, she clearly didn't belong to any prominent aristocratic house.
An unprotected civilian operating a functional transport was universally classified as a prime target for extortion within these borders. How they chose to handle such a prize depended entirely on their whims at any given moment.
"We have journeyed from Rim Billiton to visit regional relatives," Jeanne explained, her voice carrying a manufactured tremor that perfectly mimicked a frightened, defenseless girl. "Here is the official medical certification from the frontier outpost confirming our clean health. None of the three passengers within this vehicle carry the infection..."
To the guards, her trembling cadence was a textbook display of submission, causing their gazes to grow significantly more sinister and overt.
A maiden possessed of such striking features was an exceedingly rare find in these barren sectors, particularly since she wasn't traveling under the protection of a heavily armed merchant caravan. Coming across her isolated transport in the middle of nowhere was a stroke of immense fortune.
This meant that even if the girl vanished entirely from the frontier, no external authority would raise an inquiry. They could easily attribute her disappearance to a sudden catastrophe that left zero remains behind. She was a helpless prize on a chopping block, completely subject to their authority.
Surveying her fine features and silhouette, and noting the well-favored child resting within the cabin, they realized selling them into the subterranean markets would yield a handsome profit.
"This documentation is a blatant forgery, is it not? Look at that sickly passenger resting in the rear... that individual is clearly infected, yes? Step over here, let us discuss the situation..."
With those words, a few guards stepped forward to isolate Jeanne, confident that the ailing passenger and the young child within the cabin required zero supervision, as neither possessed the capacity to flee.
Fafnir watched through the glass with an utterly placid expression as they led Jeanne away, her mind entirely unbothered by the unfolding drama. She even took a casual bite of her apple, observing the doomed men with the detachment of someone watching a colony of insects step into a furnace.
The guards didn't manage to escort Jeanne very far before their illicit intentions manifested into physical action. Yet, before five minutes could elapse across the desolate plain, Fafnir witnessed a sudden, brilliant burst of flame erupting in the distance. Jeanne hadn't even waited for their hands to touch her person before unleashing a localized inferno that granted them an immediate transition into the afterlife.
Ultimately, she could never muster a shred of affection for this particular Ursine specialty. In truth, any rational civilian confronted by these institutional pests would harbor the exact same disdain.
The only proper treatment for such parasites was purification via fire. Jeanne surveyed the drifting ash that remained of the squadron, letting out a quiet sigh before climbing back into the driver's seat to guide the Doctor toward the distant spires of Chernobog.