Throughout the following day, Jeanne did little else but keep the Doctor company as they drifted aimlessly through the thoroughfares. The mastermind clearly harbored no grand design or specific destination, choosing instead to simply relish the rare sensation of navigating a city without a single duty weighing on her mind.
For the entirety of those hours, the two women and Fafnir wandered without a fixed course. Occasionally, they would linger near a bustling commercial quarter to peer into the storefronts; at other times, they would seek out a pleasant vantage point to sit quietly and observe the passing world.
Even Fafnir, who would normally be bursting with restless energy, displayed not a shred of impatience. The child simply remained at Jeanne's side, quietly munching on her supply of apples, never showing any desire to disrupt the peaceful atmosphere unless spoken to directly.
Yet, if someone were to press Jeanne for an honest critique of Chernobog's aesthetics, her internal assessment would be that it was thoroughly ordinary, offering almost nothing capable of inspiring genuine awe.
In truth, attempting to locate scenic, breathtaking vistas within a metallic mobile fortress—especially by wandering without a map—was a fundamentally flawed endeavor. Anyone searching for natural splendor inside an industrial vanguard clearly lacked proper perspective.
Had they truly wished to behold untamed beauty, venturing into the wilderness outside the perimeter would have been far wiser. Within these walls, apart from the structured agricultural sectors, the landscape was dominated by towering concrete blocks, while the manicured, pristine parks were strictly sequestered inside the wealthy aristocratic districts.
However, neither Jeanne nor the Doctor truly invested much stock in the quality of the scenery. They simply found joy in the liberating rhythm of an unguided stroll, savoring the sudden, delightful surprises when a striking visual fragment caught their eyes.
"I never anticipated you would prove to be such a tranquil companion," Jeanne remarked, turning her focus toward the strategist, who sat across from her quietly enjoying the gentle breeze over a warm cup of coffee. "I entirely expected you to drag us into a grand department store to secure a mountain of goods, or plunge into the liveliest sector to stir up some chaos!"
Jeanne still couldn't read the expressions hidden beneath that enigmatic visor, but she could discern that the person before her was fully immersed in the tranquility of the moment.
It was rather peculiar; when Jeanne reviewed her impressions of the Doctor, the defining traits that came to mind—aside from an exceptionally sharp intellect—usually bordered on a certain volatile madness. The concept of quiet serenity only associated with her during phases of critical physical collapse.
Jeanne couldn't quite fathom why her mental portrait of the strategist was painted in such volatile colors, to the point where witnessing her so utterly at peace today sparked an immediate concern that her physical frame was simply failing to sustain any exertion.
Hearing the observation, the Doctor let out a helpless, weary sigh. She harbored plenty of silent objections regarding Jeanne's immense bias against her character, yet she merely raised her gaze to direct a lazy, lingering look at her driver.
"That was simply a consequence of my mind being caught in a fractured state! You have rarely witnessed me during a period of true equilibrium. Furthermore, if I were truly such a volatile madwoman, how could Theresa have ever maintained enough confidence to entrust me with the military strategy...?"
Though the Doctor rarely let such critiques trouble her, she still felt a distinct urge to mount a defense, noting that softening her wild reputation in the silver-haired maiden's estimation would be highly beneficial for the long road ahead.
If Jeanne remained stubbornly convinced that she was prone to reckless madness, the Doctor feared that upon her eventual awakening, she might find herself easily corrupted by the Saintess's own eccentric habits. As for why she assumed Jeanne would be the one to lead her astray?
A strange, unshakeable premonition lingered deep within her subconscious—a certainty that the very first face she would behold upon waking from her long slumber would be Jeanne's. She possessed zero logical explanation for where this profound instinct originated, yet she trusted it implicitly.
Musing over these silent thoughts, the Doctor lifted her gaze toward the heavens. Fortune appeared to favor them today, as the sky above Chernobog was remarkably clear of clouds, revealing a vast expanse of pure blue that naturally lifted their spirits.
"I genuinely cannot recall how many years have slipped away since I last enjoyed such unburdened leisure," the Doctor murmured, her voice carrying a thread of nostalgia. "Ever since I accepted Theresa's invitation to assist her cause, it felt as though I had signed a contract with a thoroughly ruthless enterprise—especially with that woman Kal'tsit constantly monitoring my every stride..."
Since the high priestess of sanity was nowhere near their perimeter, the Doctor seized the opportunity to pour out a massive torrent of grievances to Jeanne, punctuating her complaints with a few choice descriptions of Kal'tsit's rigid nature, though she restricted her vocabulary to mild jabs like "that old lynx."
At times, Jeanne found herself thoroughly baffled by the dynamic between the two. The Doctor's behavior mirrored that of a companion who had shared a long, deep history with the lynx, yet Kal'tsit's rigid professionalism constantly signaled that their relationship was anything but warm.
Perhaps this cold distance was simply the feline's particular brand of prideful deflection?
Regardless of the true nature of their bond, Jeanne was acutely aware that while the Doctor's casual mockery wouldn't inspire genuine fury in Kal'tsit,would be more than willing to utilize the offense as a flawless justification to discipline the strategist down the road.
Amused by the prospect, Jeanne subtly activated her communication unit's recording function. While she harbored no immediate design to dispatch this data to Kal'tsit, preserving such a magnificent piece of leverage would undoubtedly prove useful when the timing was right.
The Doctor, entirely unburdened by suspicion due to her relaxed state, remained blissfully unaware that her ticket to a thorough lecture had just been secured by Jeanne's quick fingers. She simply continued to relax, oblivious to when the driver might choose to cash in the debt.
"What is our next course of action?" Jeanne inquired, watching Fafnir confidently pull her forty-sixth serving of dessert toward her plate. "Looking at the light, a fair amount of time remains before the sun dips beneath the horizon. Surely you do not intend to spend the remaining hours simply anchoring yourself to this bench?"
Jeanne raised the question to guide the Doctor toward their next destination, not because she minded lingering until twilight, but because Fafnir's current consumption rate was rapidly exceeding the boundaries of human comprehension. If this display continued much longer, the child would inevitably attract a massive crowd of astonished onlookers!
The Doctor hadn't anticipated such a sudden leap in Jeanne's line of questioning, but her mind was well-accustomed to navigating far more volatile shifts in conversation. She synchronized her thoughts with Jeanne's pace without a single beat of delay.
"Our next destination? In truth, I possess zero remaining objectives... or rather, it would be more accurate to say I never harbored a concrete target to begin with."
The strategist squinted up at the brilliant sun high above. Several hours remained before darkness took the sky, and spending the entirety of that interval sitting motionless would indeed be a waste of such flawless weather.
"Given the circumstances... why don't you simply keep me company for a quiet stroll through the surrounding sectors?"
With those words, the Doctor pushed herself up from the bench, intent on exploring the pathways on foot.
Jeanne nodded in immediate agreement, rising to settle the staggering bill for Fafnir's mountain of treats. They departed the establishment amidst the exceptionally warm, reverent farewells of the staff and proprietor. "Wait," Jeanne thought with a wry smile, "haven't I experienced a sequence identical to this very recently?"
For the remaining hours of daylight, Jeanne and Fafnir escorted the Doctor as she traced an unguided path across the streets. Only when the heavy blanket of night finally claimed the city did the trio turn their steps toward the hidden sanctuary housing the mysterious revival unit.
The structure was situated in an entirely unremarkable sector of Chernobog. From an external perspective, it appeared to be a standard, completely ordinary commercial building; the guards stationed within its halls carried the listless aura of employees working for a bankrupt enterprise.
A normal citizen glancing at the facility would never entertain the suspicion that the vital kinetic power source of the entire mobile metropolis was anchored deep within its foundations. Furthermore, no one would imagine the security protocols for such a critical node could be so thoroughly lax, bordering on nonexistent.
To illustrate the sheer negligence of the guard detail: Jeanne was able to effortlessly leap past the primary threshold while cradling Fafnir in her left arm and hoisting the Doctor with her right hand, completely undetected. The sentries inside the staff room were far too engrossed in a lively game of cards to pay any heed to the perimeter!
"It is highly probable that because zero local authorities possess the technical literacy to operate that sarcophagus, and given that its structural integrity makes it completely impervious to casual vandalism, they simply stopped allocating proper surveillance over the decades," the Doctor whispered, discussing the negligent guards with Jeanne as they navigated the corridors.
In their estimation, these sentries were merely low-level functionaries utilizing minor connections to draw a steady paycheck while contributing zero genuine effort to their stations.
Their hypothesis mirrored the reality perfectly. Ever since Kal'tsit severed her ties with the empire years ago, the original research team had been thoroughly scattered by death and exile. The solitary scholar left behind lacked the resources or authority to advance the project, leaving the facility in a semi-abandoned state.
Securing researchers capable of decoding the ancient mechanism was an immensely difficult task. Furthermore, since the unit continuously maintained a flawless, automated equilibrium without external intervention, the laboratory had simply faded entirely from the central government's focus.
Before long, the Doctor guided Jeanne into the primary chamber, halting directly before the dark contours of the ancient apparatus. Jeanne noted that the moniker of "sarcophagus" was a perfect fit for the obsidian machine; she could conceive of no other terminology to accurately describe its stark configuration.
She watched as the Doctor initiated the sequence with practiced familiarity, causing the relics of a forgotten civilization to smoothly open before them. Yet, Jeanne couldn't discern any complex internal machinery.
The interior presented nothing more than a hollow chamber meticulously contoured to accommodate a single human frame. Jeanne observed the Doctor as she stepped into the basin and reclined against the lining, making zero effort to remove her traveling coat or heavy layers.
She merely reached up to detach her mask, revealing the pale, weathered features hidden beneath as she locked her gaze onto Jeanne, as if executing a final, conscious effort to engrave the image of her companion into her mind.
"Well then... let us look forward to our eventual reunion in the years down the road. When that hour arrives, you must look after me, all right?"